Homecoming
by Basscop69
Summary: AU: 'So you're home, huh? Good to have you back where you belong, Waldorf'. Blair returns home after six years at boarding school.
1. Chapter 1

**That's right...it's 'Homecoming'. Re-uploaded AGAIN. I'm so sorry, fanfic randomly decided to take down the whole story - apparently it took them several months to realise that I'd included the word 'bitch' in the summary and unknowingly broken the site's rules...and I'm not the only one it's happened to, so other writers, watch out! I would hate to see anyone else lose any of their fics. I was also stupid enough not to have a single back-up – so a huge, HUGE thanks to the wonderful MegamiTenchi, Beth, and svenjen, without whom this story would be gone forever. I will start re-uploading all the chapters now – and I have a new one written at the end :) Apologies it has taken so long, my publishing rights were also taken away for a few days...and after the amount of times this fic has come and gone, not to mention how long updates have taken, I'll be amazed if there are still people reading – but I hope I haven't lost all of you. Thank you so much for all your amazing reviews, and sorry again!**

* * *

_'And I've waited patiently; and I'll wait for a sign'._

* * *

New York

"She's coming back?"

Chuck glanced up from his scotch, still sprawled languidly on the chaise longue though there was a definite flicker of interest in those golden eyes.

Carter knocked back his own glass.

"She got into Columbia."

Chuck was unable to stop a smirk. "Of course she did." That sounded like his girl. Blair Waldorf. He hadn't seen her in several years; not since they'd used to play doctors together and fight over toys and books and friends; not since the long nights at sleepovers plotting take downs with each other.

Carter's gaze narrowed at him as though remembering the same thing. Doctors and sleepovers no longer had quite the innocence of before. Not where Chuck Bass was concerned. Not now.

"She'll be joining us in the Hamptons."

Even in Carter's drawl, there was a hint of warning underneath. She was, after all, his baby sister. Not to mention the only family he had left now.

"You're not packing her off to France?" Chuck enquired with an arched brow.

The other man just gave a little shrug. "She'll be living here come fall."

Chuck entertained that thought with some pleasure. Things had been dull lately, and they definitely wouldn't be if Blair was back in town. He'd missed her.

"Maybe I'll skip Prague this summer, then."

* * *

Canterbury Accademy

Connecticut

Damien watched the small figure streaking round the track from his spot in the shadows. The bleachers were empty and concealed him perfectly. Not that she would have seen; she was far too focused on beating her last record. He reckoned the school shrink had recommended physical activity as an outlet when she'd first got here - in any case, running had been one of her many obsessions over the past six years.

It suited him just fine.

She drew close to his spot, and he watched her dark ponytail whipping through the wind, small breasts in her tight sports bra; close enough that he could see the fine layer of moisture on her skin. Sport was the only time she let herself get like this - the only time she wore the fewest clothes and allowed herself to even break a sweat.

The timer beeeped and she came to a stop, chest rising and falling as she stretched her little legs.

He sank back onto the plastic bench and pulled out his phone as she headed for the shower. And he watched, through the camera he'd set up there, as she shook her hair free of her ponytail and slipped out of her clothes, folding them neatly before stepping under the hot gush of water. The anti-fog lense had been expensive and difficult to install, but well worth the price as he studied every inch of her pale skin and his pants got tighter and tighter.

He came quickly, tissues at the ready, as he watched her scrub in between her legs, hair sliding darker over her back that she arched in the stream.

By the time she'd towelled dry, he'd put his phone away and was heading towards the changing rooms.

The sun had sunk low in the sky, the air chillier now that she was out of the hot steam, and the shadows longer. She repressed a shiver and pulled her sports bag a little closer, almost unconcious as she picked up the pace.

(Blair Waldorf had been scared of the dark now for nearly seven years. A fact that no one - not even and especially her assigned therapist - knew).

So she was unable to contain her cry of fear as a shadow suddenly loomed in front of her. A cry that she swiftly turned into a noise of digust when she realised who it was.

"Damien," she snapped. (Her heart was still thumping). "What the hell are you doing?"

Her hair was still damp, he noted. And he could smell her shampoo, that prim little body now tucked into her school uniform.

"One of these days," he sighed, "You might actually look pleased to see me."

"Not until you learn to stop sneaking up on people," she retorted. Her eyes narrowed. "Why are you on the running track? Because I know it's not for any physical exertion."

He held out a folder. "You missed Spanish today."

She looked at the folder with deep suspicion. "You came all the way here to give me my homework?"

He smiled. "Isn't that what friends do?"

"We're not friends," she reminded him, "Just because you happen to run in the same circles I do." But she took the folder, and he was already falling into her step.

"So why weren't you in Spanish?"

"Why is that any of your business?"

But he knew by now that this was simply her way. "Let me guess. Big brother?"

There was only one reason Blair would skip a class. Because Carter didn't seem to see her schedule as a real one; if he wanted to talk to her, he would. Damien knew this too by now. He'd met Carter only a couple of times, and had taken an intense dislike of him. He was arrogant and effortlessly cool - and he made no attempt to conceal his contempt of Damien. He barely spared him a glance, other than that knowing look once that had said, quite nastily, she's out of your league.

The only thing Damien had to thank him for was that he'd sent Blair here after their parents had died.

"Does he still not get the concept of classes?" Damien asked, irritated. Blair gave him a cold look. No one criticized her big brother. Damien sighed and changed tacks. "So what did he want?"

"Details for the summer," she retorted, and he felt his heart blacken further.

The summer.

She was going back to New York - back to them.

And school would be over, and he'd no longer have classes or lunch breaks with her. No more watching her in the shower, no more guilty viewings of her sleeping. He'd manipulated his way closer and closer over the years, turning friends against her if necessary just to get what he wanted. He'd changed class seating plans and assignment partners - and still nothing. He was no closer to getting her.

And time was running out.

Prom was all he had left. He'd already paid off her date to dump her - just in time for his own self to rescue her - and he'd stocked up on so much alcohol he could put a bar to shame. He wasn't taking any chances.

"I'm leaving next week," she informed him as they drew closer to the dormitories.

And Damien's blood ran cold. "But you'll miss prom." It blurted out before he could stop it, furious.

Blair gave him a funny look. "What do you care? You said you weren't going."

He ground his teeth. "I know. I'm not." His hands were clenched in silent balls of rage. No. Not all his careful planning - he couldn't have this taken away from him. Not now. "I just thought you wanted to."

He received an eye roll in reposnse. "I'd rather be sunning myself on a beach. There's something so plebian about proms, anyway."

"You weren't saying that," he snarled, "When you heard you'd been nominated for prom queen." He could barely manage to keep his tone civil any more.

He'd gone too far, though - she gave him another look and then her face closed. "Carter wants me home. Thanks for the homework." And with that, she stalked off.

He stared after her, seething with hatred and bitter, burning anger. He was never going to get her now.

And his mood only turned for the worse when he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see who it was. Great. Dan fucking Humphrey. Clearly scurrying back from another late night library trip.

"Why are you standing out here?" Humphrey came to a stop as he saw him.

Did Damien look like he wanted a conversation? His lip curled with loathing. "Just planning your untimely demise," he sneered.

Dan's frown was instant. "All right. I was just asking."

"And I'm just telling you."

The two boys regarded each other with equal dislike, though Humphrey's had none of the fury roiling underneath it. Their hatred for each other had only intensified over the years with each class room rivalry, each fight for the number one spot. Dan didn't have the same thirst for blood and need to anihilate that Damien did - but he was still determined to prove himself. And Damien couldn't believe some upstart from Brooklyn was trying to beat him.

The real reason he hated Dan, though, was because he'd been Blair's partner for the science fair in ninth grade. The two of them had ended up squabbling so much that their project had eventually failed - and Blair had since claimed to dislike him just as much as Damien did.

But they had a banter underneath it all. Banter that Damien never got with her. Even while she was screwing her nose up at Humphrey, there was grudging fondness for him too. Damien could see it. And it drove him insane. Worse still was that he was pretty sure Dan liked Blair too.

If it weren't for their backgrounds (it didn't matter that Humphrey's father managed a highly successul band - he was still new money) - Damien could swear they'd actually be friends.

And he had an impeccable background and enough money to buy the school several times over - and he was still just a person who happened to move in the same circles as her.

Dan backed away a little at the expression on Damien's face. "What's wrong with you, man?"

Damien moved closer, anger making him reckless. He could punch that stupid fucking face. "For starters," he snarled, "You're so close that I can smell your nasty sweater. It's making me feel more than a little nauseous."

"Hey-"

"Just take your creepy little books and slink home so I don't have to look at you any more."

Dan suddenly straightened and glowered back. "I'm a creep?" He glared at Damien. "I saw you heading for the girls' changing room."

The other boy's face turned ugly. "Stalking me, Humphrey?"

"Like you stalk Blair?"

Damien lost it at that. He flung himself at Humphrey with a howl of rage. "You son of a-"

But Daniel pushed him back - and, though unused to physical violence, his height gave him an advantage. He blinked in slight surprise as his fist collided with Damien and the other boy stumbled backwards - and then winced as he felt the impact in his own hand.

Damien's wrath only increased when he realised his nose was streaming. But like any good coward, he knew when to retreat.

"I'm going to kill you for this," he hissed. He was shaking with rage as he stormed away.

"Like to see you try," Dan muttered. He realised the comeback would have sounded a lot better had Damien been there to hear it. Or not; he swore the guy was verging on psychotic sometimes.

* * *

New York

Chuck sent the text as he waited in the elevator.

_So the bitch is home, huh? Can't wait to have you back where you belong, Waldorf. C._

He paused in the foyer of his penthouse as he entered. His mother was home. Not just home, but home alone. No hat or tie that belonged to an unknown stockbroker littering the floor. She was waiting. Waiting for him in the dining room, roast pheasant and crystal glasses on the table.

"Charles," she purred as he entered.

Evelyn Bass doing anything remotely domestic was enough to send warning signals in all directions. Was Bart home? Had he given her another ultimatum after her latest affair?

Of course Bart wasn't home.

"Mother." His tone was careful as he regarded her back.

"Take a seat." She smiled at him. "Scotch?"

They'd never bothered with stupid things like school nights or drinking ages. In fact, it was unlikely that Evelyn knew either the age of her son or what day of the week it was. (Did her son even go to school? Yes. They were still paying the fees).

He took it neat, as she did her vodka.

"So. I hear the Waldorf girl is coming back." Of course she didn't hang about. She was a Bass. He didn't bother asking how she knew, either - her spies were everywhere. "Little Blair's going to be in the Hamptons with us, correct?"

And by 'us', she meant him. She might linger a few days, but Basses didn't do family holidays. Her words were already creating the faintest sense of foreboding in him.

He was well aware his mother had long had designs on the Waldorf's good name. There was a reason, after all, that she'd been best friends with Eleanor for so long. Their children belonged together. It seemed he'd miscalculated just how long the tragedy would keep his mother's claws out of one of his oldest friends.

He sighed.

"She'll be attending university in New York, Charles. She'll need somewhere to stay."

"She has the Waldorf penthouse," he pointed out drily.

"Two of your best friends will be at Columbia with her." She was talking about Nate and Serena. "It only makes sense for the four of you to live together." She smiled, a smile that was entirely devoid of warmth. "It'll be just like it was when you were children. Just like it was always supposed to be."

His eyebrow lifted. "It's been six years."

There was a hardness under Evelyn's perfect face. "Which is why the Hamptons is the perfect time to reconnect. This is your one chance, Charles." She lifted a hand to her son's hair, and he tried not to flinch. "Make her yours." She gathered herself together with another smile. "Enjoy your dinner, darling." And with that, she was gone.

Chuck's phone beeped with a text.

_Better watch out, Bass. B_.

It would have made him smirk just five minutes earlier.

He pushed the pheasant away and downed another glass of scotch instead. His eyes burned a hollow gaze into the glass, sharp and cold as the mother he hated even more than his father. Which was saying something.


	2. Chapter 2

_A long time ago, we used to be friends_

_Just remember me when you're good to go'._

* * *

The hot sun slanted against the perfect green of a wide lawn, reflcted off the deep blue of a large swimming pool. Chuck leaned back against his sun lounger, spiked lemonade in hand and dark glasses tilted over his face.

He and Carter had celebrated their first night in the Hamptons in style. Chuck hadn't bothered making excuses before slipping out of his mother's housewarming party - an excuse to pick up more admirers, more like - and she'd neither noticed nor cared that he was gone. He doubted she'd start noticing till Blair arrived.

She was somewhere in the depths of their large house working off her own hangover.

Nate and Serena were arriving later that day - he had no doubt they were still in bed together at the moment. He entertained himself imagining their morning; his best friends separately never failed to amuse him, and together they reminded him of a pair of golden retrievers. They'd probably wake up to feed each other whatever was in the refirgerator, have messy sex on the kitchen counter and flop to the floor exhausted before starting the whole thing again. Lily was skiing with her latest husband - she'd taken Eric with her, for a change - so they had the van der Woodsen penthouse to themselves.

Chuck could practically picture them lounging on the floor, Serena's long legs, Nate's messy hair and one shirt between them. We should really get ready. Mmm. I'm hungry. Half an hour later. We should really get ready. Mmm. I'm hungry. No, they wouldn't be here till late afternoon.

He glanced up as Carter sauntered in, looking equally worse for wear. He dropped onto the opposite lounger with his own sunglasses.

"You sure know how to pick them," he sighed as he flexed his back.

Chuck spared him a glance. "Are you referring to the blonde or red-head?" he enquired. Though in truth, last night was still a bit of a haze. Definitely a sign of a good time.

"I'm not sure," the other man mused. "I think it was a blonde knocking at the door just now." His eyes fell on Chuck's drink. "I want one of those."

Chuck knew his friend. "Carter," he ground. "Did you let her in?"

Carter reached out and took Chuck's lemonade off him with a slight smirk. "Was I not supposed to?"

Chuck barely had time to swear before a shrill voice cut through the tranquility.

"Chuckie!" Oh, shit. She flung herself onto his lap, this girl whose face he didn't even remember, and smothered his look of disgust in kisses. "Miss me?"

"No."

She laughed, and even Carter winced at the sound. "You're such a joker!"

"He's hilarious," Carter muttered as he got to his feet. Even annoying Chuck wasn't worth this. "Ok, blondie. Party's over." She pouted and tried to kiss Chuck again; Carter groaned under his breath.

"But it looked like such fun."

And that was definitely not the blonde speaking.

At the unamused voice both boys spun round - and there, by the door, stood Blair Waldorf. Arms folded, hair immaculate in a white headband. She did not look impressed.

Carter swiftly put down the lemonade, moving to greet her.

"Sis." He recovered his shock as he wrapped her in a hug. He was a good bit taller than her, eyes blue rather than brown - but they had the same dark hair and intelligence. "What are you doing here? I thought I booked you for the Jitney this afternoon."

She gave him a look. "And I'm sure you didn't want me interupting your hangover, but Blair Waldorf does not take public transport. I had James pick me up."

At that, Carter's eyes narrowed. "I fired James." Blair had told him the sleazebag kept hitting on her.

"I know," she smiled sweetly. "He works for me now. And he was all too happy to reduce his fee after you dismissed him so unfairly."

Chuck couldn't stop his smirk as Carter glowered in disbelief. He went to push the girl off his lap so he could greet Blair properly. Blair spared her and her skimpy bikini the briefest of glances, acidic, and the blonde grinned and scurried off; but Chuck was already taking in Blair as he moved to take her hand.

She looked good.

Hell, she looked gorgeous. Those same wide brown eyes and dark curls, but the slip of a pre-teen he remembered her as had been replaced with slender curves tucked neatly into a deep blue sailor's dress cinched with a white belt. Skype dates and phone calls over the years had definitely not been sufficient. He made a mental note - over-dressed for the Hamptons. Serena would probably arrive in a bikini. And he was rather looking forward to seeing Blair's.

"Bass." Her own greeting was cool.

Wickedly, he went to kiss her hand. His lips pressed against the smooth skin as he grinned down into those eyes. "Long time no see."

She gazed back up at him for a moment, before she withdrew her hand. "I told James to take my luggage to the East Wing," she informed Carter, already turning.

"Those are Chuck's rooms," her brother pointed out. Lazily, though - he was never one for solving dispute. Only provoking it. And they all knew who's side he'd be on anyway, stolen drivers notwithstanding.

"Although," Chuck added smoothly, "I'd be happy to share." He caught Blair's eye once again.

Carter rolled his own.

"He can take the West Wing." The brunette responded as though Chuck hadn't spoken.

"Now, now, Waldorf-" Chuck went to catch her arm. He really had missed her.

But from the slant of those familiar eyes, clearly the feeling was not mutual. "You have lipstick on your face." She smiled coolly and disappeared into the house.

Chuck smirked as he watched her retreating figure. Jesus was it good to have her back.

* * *

"Blair!"

Serena positively leapt on her best friend, all golden hair and exuberance as she smothered her in a huge hug. As predicted, she was already in her bikini. And, Blair noted, tousle-haired from sex. There was a post-coital glow if ever she'd seen one.

Still, she hugged Serena back just as tight. She'd had minions in boarding school, but never a best friend.

Serena nudged her waist. "Blair-bear, you're looking far too thin," she informed her, mock serious.

Blair rolled her eyes back. "Ha ha."

Serena laughed properly, but she lowered her voice as she added, "Seriously though. What do they feed you in that place? You need a Dorota." Blair smiled back, wide and fixed. She hadn't touched the food in Canterbury Accademy's cafeteria since her first day. And even then it had ended up down the toilet. "Or better yet," Serena was adding brightly; "Ice cream!" The blonde had already proceded to drag her to the door.

"Serena," she protested. "I haven't even unpacked yet!"

A pair of blue eyes swept the room. "Your bag's empty." Like that decided it.

"But I haven't colour coded the-"

"Can I come in?"

Blond number two was at the door, and Serena was already flinging it open. Luckily, by the time Nate had envelopped Blair in a hug, Serena had forgotten about the ice cream.

"Guys, it's already five. Margarita time!"

Nate laughed, and Blair realised then how much she'd missed the sound. So she managed to keep her protests to a minimum as she let Serena push her into a bikini and drag her down to the pool.

* * *

Blair in a bikini was as delicious as Chuck had imagined.

She was as pale as Serena was brown, and as he admired the way the deep green material clung to the slope of her small breasts, the backs of her thighs white and slender, he decided that not seeing her for so many summers was a downright travesty. He admired the little bows on her bikini, too,

and not just because they made him fantasize about tugging them loose. They were so Blair. He'd never had lust overwhelm him with quite so much fondness. But, he decided, he wasn't complaining as he watched her help herself to another margarita.

He knew she was perfectly aware of his gaze.

She'd made a play of not talking to him as Serena kept her occupied with margarita after margarita - but she was tipsier and in a far better mood now, and he caught her wrist as she slipped past him, pulling her down on the sunbed with him.

"Bass," she protested as she landed on his bare chest. She pushed herself up, wriggling to his side instead. He leaned forwards so that his arms brushed hers, and the two of them lay on their stomachs, watching the shadows lengthen on the pool.

Serena giggled drunkenly in the background (Nate and Carter were attempting to play a card game, much to her delight), and Blair reflected that the dark was nowhere near as terrifying right now.

"So," Chuck drawled in the comfortable quiet. "How was boarding school?"

She sighed. "Boring."

He tilted his head at her. "Really? No wild tales to tell?" She gave him a look. "Boyfriends?"

Blair's skin prickled a little. She knew why he was asking. And it wasn't fair - because she knew what the answer would be if she asked him the same thing. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He nudged her, then, shoulder leaning into hers. "Yes."

She looked up into those eyes, dark gold in the setting sun. Mocking her, perhaps, but his expression was serious. She sighed again. "Plenty of dates. No boyfriends."

"Good dates?"

She could feel his smirk. "They ended well," she answered silkily. "Quite satisfying."

The smirk stopped. He was holding her in place now, even as she squirmed to get free. "Satisfying?"

"About as satisfying as yours," she bit. "I'm sure. And why shouldn't they have been?"

His eyes narrowed. "Because that's not you." She'd never give in that easily after one date.

"Because you know me so well-"

"Yes," he said bluntly. "I do."

So she relented and rested her head against his shoulder. The bare skin was hot under her cheek. His fingers grazed hers, tracing the tops.

"I missed you," he murmured into her hair, and she felt the shiver flicker up her spine. But for once, it wasn't an unpleasant one.

"I'm sure," she scoffed, half-hearted.

"You have no idea how dull things were without you," he assured her.

She glanced up at him, and there was suddenly a challenge in those eyes. "So, what? Are we going out now that I'm back?" Wasn't that what everyone expected? She shifted the warmth of her body closer, heated skin brushing his. More importantly, she knew, what Evelyn would expect. "Has mother dearest told you to seal the deal before Hamptons season ends?"

He watched her silently, and his mouth twisted a little. So did hers. "Do I get to seduce you tonight?" he murmured. His fingers slid up her arm as he spoke. "That would definitely speed things up."

She slapped him lightly, but left his fingers where they were. They were too warm to move away.

"I'm tired tonight."

His fingers threaded a pattern on the soft skin of her shoulder, reaching up to tangle with her hair. His thumb ran over her cheek. He was apologising, she knew. They were silent as the murmur of voices blended behind them and the pool lights eased on.

"If you really wanted me," she murmured drowsily, "Then I'd expect you to fight for me." Her eyelashes fluttered closed as her head pillowed in his arm. He was so warm and smelt of scotch and home.

"You mean give Evelyn a show?" There was quiet approval in his voice.

She was already asleep.

Blair liked charades - always had done. She would play along as long as it entertained her to do so. But Chuck knew it wasn't just a show his mother wanted.

He knew she had long-term plans.

She'd never truly be content until Blair had the Bass family ring on her finger and they could parade her in front of the Bass Industries board. She needed her son to usurp her husband, and for that she needed a good reputation and old money. She needed the board members to see that her son was committed. And who better than to society's tragic orphaned darling? Blair and Chuck being together would give her the Waldorf legacy on a plate. Something she'd been itching to get her nails into ever since she and Eleanor had first met.

Blair was perfect.

He gazed down at her in the dim light. He could make out each perfect ridge of her spine, the pefect paleness of her skin under the pool's shadows. He exhaled as he ran his fingers through her hair, her cheek warm against him. She was perfect all right.

Carter prowled over, finally sick of the failed card game attempt. Nate was trying to tug Serena somewhere - they both fell, all long limbs, and lay tangled on the floor kissing in between hysterical laughter.

Carter was, of course, well aware of the Bass-Waldorf union that everyone thought was inevitable. And he knew it wouldn't hurt his own plans, because it didn't matter how much money Eleanor and Harold had left them in their trust funds - they were still orphans. Money didn't last forever without a constant supply from the parents.

And the Bass family had money. Getting close to them could be advantageous.

The question was whether he trusted his supposed best friend with his sister. He looked down at them now, Blair sleeping so peacefully on him as he played with her hair. Except this was Chuck Bass. And for all the front that she put on, Carter remembered six years ago all too clearly.

He gave Chuck a look. The other boy had stopped playing with her hair, though he kept his hold on her as he regarded Carter back.

"Bed time."

Carter scooped her up, out of Chuck's arms. She stirred in her sleep - a faint whimper of protest - before dropping back against her brother's chest. Sighing, Carter carried her up to her room.

Chuck stayed in the silence.

* * *

When Blair woke up, it took her a moment to realise she'd managed a nightmare-free sleep. The room was still partially dark, and she recognised the faint snores of her best friend from next to her, golden hair splayed across the pillow. Slowly, she dropped her own head down too, and snuggled back into Serena's warmth. Home.


	3. Chapter 3

_The fever's gonna catch you when the bitch gets back'._

* * *

"Come on," Serena laughed. She'd been skimming through the photos on Blair's phone for the past several minutes. "You're telling me there's no gossip at all?"

Blair shook her head with another sip of her green tea. "None," she pronounced drily. "I told you, S. Bedtimes and study hours don't make for the most exciting life. Boarding school is...still school." She brushed her hair behind her ears. "Dull."

Serena continued to scan the phone.

"Well, these guys don't look dull." She passed through skiing and choir trips, landing on the shot of a single guy. "Mmm, like this one." She thrust the picture in front of her best friend. "Who is this? And if you took this photo, what's with the smile he's giving you?"

Blair spared it a glance, then pulled a face. "Damien Dalgaard. Trust me, nothing interesting there."

But Serena was looking at her expectantly. "Come on! What's the story?"

Blair wrinkled her nose. "There's none."

"Well, it looks like he wishes there was."

"That's because he's a lech," Blair responded disgustedly. She was about to say something else when a shadow fell across the table. She glanced up, adorable smile sliding into place. "Oh, and speaking of leches..."

He'd heard her laugh mingling with Serena's when he'd woken up; he grinned down at her now. They were on the terrace in their pyjamas, sunlight slanting off heads dark and gold. Except Serena's hair was mussed with morning sleep where Blair's was carefully brushed, flawless in her cream night slip and bare arms pale in the morning light.

"Please," Chuck pressed. "Don't let me stop the reminiscing." He gave Serena a knowing look. "Waldorf's been most reserved about her time away, don't you think?" He leaned on the glass table, radiating casual arrogance as his eyes moved back to Blair's. "I think she's hiding something."

She pursed her lips at him. But she didn't bother retorting - because she really wasn't hiding anything. Or at least not anything interesting.

Judging from the mountain of food surrounding them, Serena had put the Bass chef to work. She was currently tearing into a huge croissant, a stark contrast to her best friend.

He dropped down opposite Blair as he reached for black coffee. "Sleep well?"

His gaze was lavicious - he knew the girls had shared a bed last night.

The brunette gave him a little kick under the table. Smirking, he caught her bare leg in between his. Not to be outdone, her foot slid up his calf, pulling a face as she slid another grape into her mouth.

"Wonderfully."

He smirked again and drained his coffee. Blair rolled her eyes at him and helped herself to more grapes, aware of him watching her lips and the arch of her foot still against his bare leg.

Then Carter slouched in and abruptly put an end to any footsie as he plonked down beside his sister.

"This coffee tastes like piss," he drawled. He was already helping himself to pancakes and blueberry sauce, pausing only once he noticed Blair's empty plate to drop a stack in front of her. "And I don't know what the hell you put in those margaritas last night, van der Woodsen, but you're not going near the cocktail bar again."

Blair tilted her head at him. "I see someone's in a lovely mood."

Carter grunted. "What are you up to today?"

Serena was already stretching, content, as she answered for her. "We're on holiday." She exchanged a grin with her best friend. "So, lounging around in pyjamas."

"Not bikinis?" Chuck enquired.

Carter followed his gaze to Blair's exposed neck and shoulders. His eyes narrowed as he glanced back at his friend. "You are not. Go get dressed."

Serena shot him a glare. "Hey, spoilsport! Stop telling her what to do."

"Actually," Blair chirped, "We were planning on going shopping."

Serena's eyes widened in horror at the idea of physical activity. "B," she whined. "Come on, I told you I didn't-"

"Sounds good to me." Carter tossed his coffee into the nearest bush. "Don't forget sunscreen."

Blair had already leapt to her feet, pancakes untouched as she reached for Serena. "Oh, brother," she sighed sweetly. "What would I do without your guidance?" She wrapped her arms around his neck, at his scowl, and yanked at Serena again. "Come on, S. Bendels awaits."

She flounced off, the blonde dragging her heels behind her.

Carter said nothing, but his eyes were still narrowed on Chuck as the other boy watched her go. The slip clung to the curve of her hips so tantalisingly that Chuck was sure she'd planned it that way, down her narrow waist to the silk that brushed her pale thighs.

He finally sighed, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

Carter just gave him a look.

* * *

Chuck strode into the darkened bedroom, spying a messy blond head at one end of the bed. He rolled his eyes and flung open the curtains.

There was a groan of pain from the bunched up covers.

"Rise and shine, Nathaniel." Chuck smoothed his hair in the mirror, ignoring the confused grumblings behind him. "I'm bored. We're going into town."

More grumblings; it took Chuck a moment to decipher something like take Carter. Hangovers did not agree with his usually sanguine best friend.

"He's got a lunch date. So chop chop. I expect you down in the foyer in ten." He paused a moment, taking in the familiar morning smell. "And Archibald? Shower's non-negotiable."

* * *

"What about this one?" Serena asked, hope tinging her exasperation. She adored shopping, but at the moment the though of an ice cold latte was far more tempting. Proof that hangovers and heels did not go hand in hand.

The hope didn't last long once she saw the expression on her best friend's face.

"What," Blair said slowly, "Is that?"

So, Serena hadn't been shopping with her in a while - but she was sure the brunette had got even more fussy. And while she loved Blair for it, she really did want that latte.

"You said you wanted an LBD," she pouted.

"A little black dress, Serena. That's not even a top!"

"Come on," the blonde protested, laughing. "It's sexy." She held it against herself. "Ok, it's a little short on me. But on you-"

"No."

By this point they'd caught the shopkeeper's attention, something that was inevitable whenever Serena was around. And he could tell at a glance that the beautiful girls had money to spend.

"If you don't mind me saying, miss, I think it would really suit you."

Blair barely spared him a withering glance. "I do mind you saying. Go fold something." She'd turned back to the racks before Serena even had the chance to flash the man an apologetic look.

Sighing, she grabbed her best friend's arm. "Blair. Come on." Her tone was firm. "You've graduated high school. You're moving back to the city, and you're starting college. And," she added, dazzling, "You have a whole summer ahead of you with your best friend." Blair couldn't stop a reluctant smile at that. Serena leaned into her arm, knowing she was winning. "Don't you think it's time for a little adventure?"

"But-"

"No buts," she interrupted, bossy for once. Though the stupid grin on her face ruined the effect a little. "You're back, B. It's time you showed it!"

Blair's mouth twitched. "Please. You just want me to buy something so you can get lunch."

"A latte, actually," Serena beamed. She was already steering her smaller friend into the changing room, pushing the dress into her arms. "And you're not allowed to say no until I've seen it!"

* * *

Serena jumped as a pair of warm hands covered her eyes, turning into the embrace of her boyfriend.

Nate smiled at her, hair rumpled and his own blue eyes still cloudy with sleep. She laughed, latte momentarily forgotten as she returned his kiss. She inhaled the scent of his clean Armani shirt and peppermint toothpaste.

"What are you doing out of bed?" she asked playfully.

His grin was simple, content to be teased. "Well," he murmured, "I wanted breakfast, and you weren't there..."

"And we might have got here sooner if that hadn't taken him so long to work out." Chuck leaned against the door frame with a sigh. He'd already scanned the room, past the couple currently all over each other. "Where's Waldorf?"

Serena gestured to the shop next door. "She's trying on a dress." She glanced down at the latte, sheepish. "I should probably get back."

Chuck was already halfway out the door. "Don't bother. You can keep Archibald amused."

Serena and Nate exchanged a glance, shaking their heads a little. But they were more than happy to go back to kissing. Nate grinned dozily. "What about late lunch?"

* * *

Blair eyed the dress.

She'd been right. Of course. It was far too slutty for her. She would never wear something like this in public. The plunging sweetheart neck line, the tight bodice and short flared skirt...it was a Serena dress.

Speaking of - where was her awful best friend? No doubt she'd snuck off for that damn latte.

"Serena," she snapped, tugging at the skirt again. Actually, the dress would go well with those Gucci stilettos she'd bought last month. If she ever lost all mental capacity and considered wearing it out. "Congratulations Serena," she called again, impatient. "You've found the perfect dress. Perfect for when I drop out of Columbia and take to the streets." No reposnse. "I'm taking it off!" she called.

"Oh, please do."

Her heart leapt into her throat and she spun, cursing, to see an idle hand push aside the curtain.

"Chuck!" she screeched. "Out!"

He ignored her, of course. His eyes gleamed dark as his head slid around the red material, eyeing her appreciatively.

"I'd be more than happy to fund your wardrobe for a career on the streets." There was silence as his golden eyes raked over her, revelling in the material on her skin. And to her fury, she felt a flush starting to rise. "Blair Waldorf," he murmured. "All grown up."

"Chuck Bass," she snit. "Still a pervert."

He smirked like she'd paid him the greatest compliment in the world, and she was reminded of the little boy who'd lifted up her skirt with the same expression.

She hit him. Hard. "Get out!"

"Only if you promise to buy that dress," he laughed. "Though," he reflected, "I doubt Carter would let you out in it. Pity."

She lifted her chin, eyes narrowed. "So maybe I'll buy it just for that." Her voice was smooth, and Chuck's eyes lit up.

"In that case-"

"Out," she snapped. "Now."

Rolling his eyes, he sauntered out.

It was only when she turned to the zipper - reaching for her normal dress ready to slip on quick - that she realised it wasn't there.

Her normal dress, that was.

The decent one.

"BASS!"

She could hear his low chuckle outside. He sounded immensely pleased with himself, the motherchucker.

"Bass," she hissed. She whipped aside the curtain, nails pressed into the wall as her gaze zeroed in on him. The peach day dress was slung casually over his shoulder. "You have three seconds to return my clothes to me. Three-"

But Chuck had already tipped her a wink and disappeared.

"Chuck!" She tried to keep her voice down, aware that there were people outside. And of course he didn't re-emerge. So she had no choice but to follow him out of the changing rooms and into the shop. She scowled, hands tight at her side as she stalked out - she was damned if she was going to show any sign of hesitation.

The first thing she saw, of course, was the shopkeeper she'd dismissed earlier.

His smile was instant. "Miss, that dress is delightful. An excellent choice-"

"Excuse me."

She walked straight past him, eyes seeking one figure and one figure alone. One unbearably smarmy figure that was currently leaning against the shop counter, dress in hand. She was going to kill him.

"Ah," he smiled. "There's my girlfriend now. It seems she loves it so much she wants to wear it out."

It was worth it for the barely contained fury etched in every angle of her face. Except Blair Waldorf could never lose it in public. "I'm not," she smiled at the cashier between ground teeth, "His girlfriend. And I won't be buying this dress." Her fingers tightened around Chuck's jacket. "Sweetie." She yanked him, hard. He grinned even through his wince of pain. "Can I talk to you a moment?"

It wasn't a question - but before she had chance to drag him back to the changing room, he'd slipped his arm around her waist and was leading her into a corner. So they were still in public.

"Is there a problem?" he smiled ingratiatingly. "Honey?"

"My dress. Now."

"You're wearing you dress," he smirked; and he seemed to take great pleasure in drawing out, "Darling."

She glared up at him. There was a pause - and then she lunged for the dress at the same time as he whipped it out of her reach.

Smug, he tapped her nose like a naughty child. "Uh-uh, Blair bear."

It was all she could do not stamp her foot. She was shaking with rage as she faced him, and she knew full well she'd reached a stand-off. The only way she'd get her dress back now was to make a scene. And Blair Waldorf was far too well-bred for that.

Besides, it would be giving him exactly what he wanted. She'd played enough dare games with him to know that he got off on public humiliation.

Which meant that...really, there was only one thing she could do. She straightened. He paused, sensing the look that had entered her eyes. Blair Waldorf never backed down from a game. And she never lost.

"Fine," she smiled.

She turned on her heel, heading straight for the front door. Could she do this? She pictured Chuck's smirk. Yes. She could.

"I'll be taking the dress," she called over her shoulder as she marched past the cashier. She barely paused to add, "My boyfriend will pick up the tab."

And then she'd left the shop with a snap of the door.

Serena was right.

Blair Waldorf was back.

* * *

Nate was in the middle of sipping his coffee, gaze on Serena, when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Blinking, he turned his full attention to the scene on the street.

"Whoa."

Serena turned too - and her mouth dropped, too, when she saw their best friend. Wearing the black dress. "I was right," she cried in delight. "It looks amazing on her!"

But the blonds were already on their feet and heading out of the cafe as they saw Chuck catch up with her. They exchanged another glance.

Chuck had caught Blair's arm.

"All right, Waldorf," he murmured against her. "Touche. You've made your point." He glanced around the relatively empty street. "Now are you going to come back inside before you give that geriatric a heart attack?" There was amusement underneath it, though, laced with deep admiration.

Blair gave him a charming smile. "I don't think so."

Serena and Nate arrived at that moment. "Hi guys." It seemed to only just have occurred to Nate that Blair was a girl; he looked genuinely torn between loss and entertainment. "Uh...what's going on?" He'd also noticed his best friend's hand on her.

"S." Blair removed herself from Chuck's grasp. "Just in time. Sorry, Nate - we have shopping to get back to." Serena tried very hard not to laugh as Blair linked their arms together.

Sighing, Chuck held out her normal dress. "Ok. You win. Now are you coming?"

Blair plucked the dress out of his hands. She avoided his offered arm, still holding onto Serena as the girls moved past him. "You can get me an ice tea while you're waiting." She flashed him a smirk, though.

And he and Nate were too busy watching the girls leave to notice a gawping twelve year old - Chuck Bass, she'd seen Chuck Bass! - stop the camera on her cell phone and hit send.

* * *

Damien slammed his laptop shut. He'd finished replaying the short video for the tenth time; and still his blood seethed with bitter jealousy, sick to his stomach.

He'd stayed in Manhattan before - long enough to hear about Gossip Girl. And he'd figured Blair would be one of her prime targets once she moved back. He just hadn't realised it would be this quick.

_Guess who's back?_ The caption read. There were stills underneath; stills of her in the most mouth-watering black dress he'd ever seen. And what the hell - she was in public, in a dress like that? Years of pencil skirts and high necked blouses, and this was what he got the second she moved away?

And it got worse.

_That's right, boys and girls - Blair Waldorf is back. We haven't seen B since her big bro carted her off to boardng school in regions unknown - and it looks like one Bass is even happier than we are to see her again. If these two partners in crime are reunited, Manhattan better watch out._

Damien knew about Chuck Bass. Who didn't?

He'd never met the boy face to face, but he'd done his research. He'd read enough of the texts and emails he'd sent Blair over the years to hate him instantly. A feeling that was only reconfirmed, now, when he saw the Basstard's hand close on Blair's slender arm. When he saw the look in his eyes, even over video.

And a thousand times worse - the look Blair gave him back.

It wasn't fucking fair.

Damien had come very close to having Blair Waldorf once upon a time. They were both striving, both clever; and on paper, he was perfect. She'd said yes when he'd asked her out. Except he'd been a horny fourteen year-old, and his mind had been on one thing. And at that stage, he hadn't been obssessed enough with her to wait.

The date had been going perfectly until he'd sat her down on a bench and they'd started kissing. She'd been wearing a black dress then - though it was nothing like the thing in that video - long sleeved and scoop necked. And she'd worn tights underneath.

He knew because he'd moved his hand there. She'd told him to stop, and he'd been too eager to listen. Too insistent, too impatient. The result had been a slapped face as she'd stormed off.

He'd called her a prude and slept with the class slut a week later. Except all he could think about was the frigid bitch who'd refused him - and she'd haunted his sleep ever since.

And here she was, with Chuck Bass no less. Wearing a skimpy dress with him. For him? She was going to let Chuck Bass fuck her. Damien could see it already. Precious Chuck Bass, with his childhood claim on her.

How the hell was he supposed to compete with that?

* * *

Evelyn Bass came down the stairs just as the four of them spilled through the front door. They were laughing about something, laden with drinks and bags from a clearly delightful shopping trip. She stood there, tall and haughty in a silk nightrobe, dark eyes surveying them in silence. She had Chuck's slanted cheek bones - without an inch of compassion. Were she not so terrifying, she might have been beautiful.

Her sharp gaze landed on Blair Waldorf as the laughter died.

She wanted to say that the girl was the spit of her mother; but Eleanor had never been that small, nor that pale. At least her prim china doll vibe - the doe eyes and tasteful peach dress - fit the required image perfectly.

And Evelyn was even more pleased to see Chuck's hand near the small of her back, her shopping bags clearly in his hold. He'd already started reeling her in. Perfect.

She wasn't blind; she was aware, vaguely, of the fondness Chuck had for his childhood friend. The same fondness, she mused, that one might bestow on their favourite pet. And by the looks of things, Blair Waldorf would make a very good pet. The childhood link was definitely something Evelyn could manipulate to her favour.

No doubt Blair was as cunning as her mother and brother, but Evelyn's killer instinct had already sensed that fragility. Insecurity and vulnerability that she could exploit.

That she knew Chuck could exploit.

"Blair."

She smiled. (Serena and Nate stepped closer to each other without thinking; they could have sworn the temperature dropped a few degrees). Blair moved forwards, obedient, as Evelyn swept towards her.

She pulled the child into an embrace, tilting her face up to her with a single finger.

"Just like your mother," she murmured. There was a cold pat on top of her head - "Eleanor would have been proud." She didn't miss the flicker of pain in Blair's eyes before the mask went back up.

Easy.

"I hope you're taking good care of her, Charles?"

Chuck's nod was terse; she smiled and ignored him.

"I'm having a party tonight. You must come." She hardly bothered looking at Nate and Serena. "All four of you. It's lovely seeing you back together again." She was about to add something else - but Chuck was already herding Blair out and away from her.

"We have plans tonight."

"So cancel them." Evelyn's voice was pure frost. Even Nate and Serena paused in their woman smiled once more. "I'll see you at eight."


	4. Chapter 4

_'I want to build you up brick by brick_

_I want to tear you down brick by brick_

_I want to steal your soul brick by brick._'

* * *

"I need something classy. Something elegant and timeless. Sophisticated."

"So, not the black dress?" Serena's grin was mischievious; Blair's eyes slanted dangerously.

They were both in their underwear, hair blow-dried, make up flawless, and room sweet with the scents of perfume and straightners. Excpet Blair couldn't work out what to wear. Serena's own floaty orange dress was tossed effortlessly over a chair, selected at random from the wardrobe. And Blair knew she'd look gorgeous.

But Blair needed an outfit that was perfect.

She hadn't been to a proper party in a while - at least, not one that mattered. Not a Hamptons party. Not a party filled with all the Upper East Side matriarchs she needed to impress. Not a party that would be watched - and watched by the right people.

"S," she hissed now, flicking in vain through her large collection of dresses - "This is my re-enrty into society!"

Serena repressed a smile. "I don't think-"

"No," Blair snapped, almost shrill. "You don't." This was hopeless. "Seriously," she wailed; "Who throws a party at this late notice? Everyone knows that you need at least a week to plan for something like this. Who is selfish enough to just demand..."

She trailed off as she realised that Serena had gone silent and there was a noticeable chill in the room. She turned slowly, swallowing.

Evelyn Bass was standing in the doorway.

"Blair," she smiled. Blair was accutely aware of her state of undress as that gaze swept her. Scornful, she was sure. "Darling, I thought you might be panicking about your outfit." The woman's eyes glittered with malice. "I remember what Waldorf women are like." She held out a dress bag. "I doubt you had access to the best couture in that facility-"

"School," Blair was swfit to correct, paling; Evelyn gave her a condescending nod.

"-So I picked this up for you."

Serena choked a little; fortunately, Blair reacted faster and managed to keep a smile fixed on her face. "Thank you," she squeaked. "You really didn't have to-"

"Oh," Evelyn purred. "I insist."

She tossed it to the bed with another unpleasant smile, and then prowled out of the room.

Serena and Blair exchanged looks of horror. Blair moved, quickly, and shut the door. She would not be making that mistake again.

"Oh my god," the blonde breathed. She ran her hands through her hair. "I think this is the most I've ever spoken to Evelyn Bass in my life. And she wasn't even speaking to me!" She stared at her best friend; but Blair was staring at the dress bag.

"What if it's hideous?" she whispered.

She had no choice - she had to wear it now. She had no idea how Evelyn would react if not, and the last thing she wanted was a scene.

Serena gave a helpless shrug. "I mean, it's not like she has bad taste-"

Blair ignored her, picking up the bag. Both girls held their breath as she unzipped it - and then stopped once the dress was out.

"Wow."

It was gorgeous. A fitted dusky pink bodice woven with silver, wispy sleeves and soft white skirt. Perfect for a summer party in the Hamptons.

Just...perfect.

Serena couldn't stop her smile of relief. "See? I knew Evelyn was incapable of choosing something ugly." Blair gave her another look - because the blonde had known nothing of the sort - but returned to the dress with some wonder.

"It's beautiful." She held it up, examining the cut. "I think it's even my size." She reached for the label, frowning. "I wonder who-"

And then she stopped, abruptly. Because woven into the label were two letters she knew better than any. Letters that any one with any level of class of pedigree - any sense of fashion - would know. A curling 'E' and a trademark 'W'.

"What?" Serena was at her side in seconds. "You know, if it's the wrong size, Evelyn hardly ever sees you, and it's not like-"

"It's not the size." Blair's voice was strained, stuck in her throat. "It's the design."

"Blair, I'm sure even if it's GAP no one will ever suspect-"

"It's my mother's," Blair whispered. And, as Serena stared at her, blue eyes uncomprehending - "It's my mother's design. This dress. It's an Eleanor Waldorf original."

* * *

Chuck was waiting with Nate in the marble hall, already in a foul mood. He hated his mother's parties at the best of times. And especially now, when he could think of a thousand things he'd rather be doing with a certain returned...friend.

Nate sighed for the thousandth time, shaking his hair out of his eyes. "So just one hour, man, and then we can bail?"

"Let's hope so," Chuck muttered. He was pretty sure Evelyn would have other ideas. This was bound to be the one party she actually demanded his presence for.

"What's taking them so long?"

Chuck did love his best friend, but if he asked that question one. more. time -

"Hi boys."

He turned; and there they were, finally. He couldn't stop the faint smirk as he drank in Blair's appearance - and her descent down the stairs gve him the perfect opportunity to do so. Actually, he reflected as his eyes grazed the curve of her waist and the tight tulle gathered at her chest, he was in a better mood already. Thank God Carter was at a yacht party instead.

Except that when she reached him, he realised something was wrong.

He pulled her wrist into his hand, running his finger over hers. And he was surprised to feel that her skin was cold. "Well you look beautiful," he murmured, lips curving. "But what's with the pale face?" He studied her - because it was more than that. There was an odd look in her eyes.

She rolled them. "You should learn how to deliver a compliment, Bass."

She went to push past him, but he caught her elbow, gaze flickering briefly to Serena. The blonde was no help. Too busy locking lips with Nate.

Convenient.

"Not so fast." Had he thought he'd get an answer, he would have asked what was wrong. He was tempted to demand one. Instead, he tucked her arm in his. He would work it out - and in the meantime, she could stay within eyesight. "Let's not forget Evelyn."

He caught it - the flinch. Or was it a shudder? But she was already pressing on into the main reception room. "Come on, then."

* * *

The room was large enough, and lavishly decorated; the bar, as in all Evelyn Bass parties, the centrepiece. Evelyn never bothered with themes or meticulous planning. Decadence was enough. She herself held centre court, oozing sleek perfection in a black dress with her dark hair swept up.

She pounced on them as soon as they entered, and Blair managed not to drop her smile. But she felt sick. If not for Chuck's firm grip and his heat at her side, she might have fled. Heads turned as they entered, looking with varying degrees of interest and envy at the Waldorf heiress. Accompanied by Chuck Bass, too.

Some older parents smiled and exchanged nods - there was a couple planned from birth. And after such a tragedy, and such a beautiful girl, it was good to see the plan back on track. A few younger girls gazed with trepadition and longing - was that the girl who could tame Chuck Bass? The womanizer's one true love, surely? And some boys with barely concealed dislike - a gorgeous heiress back, and she still wasn't on the market.

But most just looked with genuine curiosity.

Something Evelyn was very aware of, and ready to capatalise on. Blair Waldorf was fresh meat. She was going to build her up into the paradigm of perfection.

To start with, she was careful to guide the girl in the direction of the most important wives. The ones that ran in the same circles as board members; the ones who had impressions and opinions that actually mattered. She told Chuck to fetch her a drink (everyone had already seen them enter as a couple, and one didn't want to be too obvious).

She was a kind woman, guiding the poor girl around. Treating her like family. Which she would be - soon.

Blair wanted nothing more than to yank her arm out of Evelyn's - but the woman was too influential. She was introducing (or re-introducing) her to exactly the people Blair needed. And wasn't this just the impression she'd needed to make? Weren't these just the looks she'd wanted? The dress felt tight, and her face ached regardless of how well she'd been trained in the art of smiling and nodding. At boarding school, she'd never been steered around like a show puppy on display. She'd never had this many eyes on her - not for several years, anyway.

Chuck, meanwhile, had agreed to fetch her a drink so that he could question Serena. Of course, the first place she and Nate had headed to was the bar.

"What's up with Waldorf?" he demanded now, still watching the brunette out of the corner of his eye. He could see from across the room that her smile was fake. He'd seen enough of them. Especially after -

"Uh." Serena was chewing her lip. Not a good sign. "It may have something to do with the dress she's wearing."

* * *

It had happened. The very thing Blair had been hoping to avoid. "Blair, sweetheart - I love your dress!" Miranda Coates beamed as held out her hands; and Blair felt Evelyn's satisfaction.

"Actually," the woman murmured, "I think I know why you love it so much."

Blair froze, eyes lifting to hers. She wouldn't. But she would - this was exactly what she'd planned. Blair could tell from just a glance. Of course it was. Why else get her to wear the dress?

"It's an Eleanor Waldorf."

At the name, a hush fell. And the looks, just like that, turned to pity. Poor little Blair Waldorf, wearing her dead mother's design.

The dress was suddenly constricting her breathing, too hot as she felt her cheeks burn with shame. And icy sweat at the same time. She wasn't ready for this. Not those looks, not again. Not now.

And then there was a grip like iron at her side.

"Mother."

Evelyn smiled down at the intimdating sight of those black eyes, burning with hate in a pale clenched face. Mother and son faced each other, and mother didn't bat an eyelid.

"How nice of you to join us, Charles."

"We were just leaving."

He didn't give Blair a chance to protest - he was already dragging her out of there. He was so set on leaving that he didn't realise she was pulling back until she gave him a hard pinch.

"Chuck."

He finally paused, staring at her. She'd got through the wall of rage - but only just. He stared at her; at her white face and wide brown eyes, burning so fiercely that he couldn't tell if it was pain or anger. She looked too near the verge of tears for it to be the latter. That, and her hand was trembling in his. He didn't think she'd even realised.

"I can't leave."

He continued to stare - and her eyes held his, as close to pleading as Blair Waldorf would ever get. I can't leave. Not like this. It had been six years. If she didn't deal with the looks now, then what was the point in going back? She had to face them sooner or later.

"I'll be in the hall."

He made no attempt to move though; he stood there, gaze still dark, and waited. Watched, as she took a breath and marched back to his mother and Mrs. Coates.

"Sorry about that." She smiled bright. "Chuck double booked us for tonight." Evelyn watched her coolly, almost amused. "I guess that's what happens," Blair simpered back, "When these things are thrown together so last minute! Really, Mrs Bass." She gazed evenly up at the woman. "I admire your organisation skills."

Evelyn rolled her eyes.

"Now, what were we talking about?"

Miranda paused. "I was just saying how lovely your dress is, dear." Her eyes glistened. (Blair had known Eleanor's friends. Miranda Coates wasn't one of them). "Really, your mother was so talented."

"She was." Blair spared Evelyn a glance. "I loved all of her designs. Although - I meant to ask you, Mrs. Bass. I don't think this dress was ever in her public line. How did you manage to get hold of it?"

Evelyn's face was expressionless. "We were very good friends, sweetheart."

Blair smiled again. "Of course."

The Bass woman curled her lip - and Blair wasn't sure what the expression meant. If it was disgust. Or something else. "I'm sure you've spent long enough with the adults now," Evelyn drawled. "You and Charles can run along."

The two of them faced each other. "Are you sure?" Blair pressed. "I'd be happy to stay."

The woman's full lips pursed. "I'd hate to keep the two of you apart." She gave the girl a final look before smiling coldly and turning her back on her.

* * *

Serena leapt on Blair the second she was out of the party. "B! What just happened? Are you ok?"

Chuck gave a little eye roll. "Of course she is. What did you think she was going to do, break down?"

Blair smirked a little, at that. They exchanged the briefest of glances; her face was still whiter than normal, his eyes darker. But he smirked back.

"Now are we getting out of here or not?"

Groaning in relief, Nate loosened his tie. "Finally."

* * *

The four of them were sitting round the hot tub of the van der Woodsen cabana, well supplied with Lily's alcohol stock. Blair had wrinked her nose at the idea of sitting on the floor in her dress, slapped Chuck for his suggestion that she take it off - and now, cautiously, was debating dipping her toes into the water.

Serena had no such qualms, dress rolled up just like Nates shirt sleeves, shoes discarded with his jacket. With much grumbling - this is Armani - Chuck had given Blair his jacket to sit on.

They were currently more than halfway through their second bottle of champagne, the air sweet with lemon from the expensive scented candles.

"Never have I ever," Nate declared, "...Got an A+."

Serena giggled and glanced at Blair; sighing, she drank. Chuck smirked and drank too. And, at Nate and Serena's looks of amazement - "Home ec. Fifth grade." He tipped his glass at Blair, and Serena frowned.

"It doesn't count if she was your partner!"

"It's on my report card," Chuck retorted. "It does." His eyes settled on Blair again with another smirk. "You're up."

Blair shifted on his jacket. "Do we have to play this?" she complained. "It's not that fun when you're playing with Chuck Bass and Serena van der Woodsen."

"What are you talking about?" Nate protested.

"You drank the last four goes!"

Blair arched an eyebrow at her best friend. "Never have I ever finished an assignment on time, gone to bed when I was told, or kept to a curfew?"

Nate, however, was shaking his head. "No," his insisted, "I mean what about me?" And, at their blank looks - "You're playing with Nate Archibald too!" Silence. He frowned. "I'm wild."

Chuck and Blair looked at each other in slight disbelief.

And then even Serena was laughing at her boyfriend. Nate was highly disgruntled for all of five minutes. "Ok," Serena managed, when she'd calmed down a little and Nate had 'forgiven' her. "How about truth or dare?"

"How old are we," Chuck groaned. "Ten?" Then, as he remembered just how competitive Blair got - "Actually, that could be interesting." He grinned over at her, tawny eyed in the low light. "Waldorf, I dare you to take off your dress."

"The game is truth or dare, you moron."

"Fine," he shot back. "Who's Damien Dalgaard?"

Serena blinked for a moment. "Wait, you were listening to our conversation?"

Blair's eyes had narrowed on him.

"I can't help it," Chuck sighed, "If your inane giggling woke me up. You need to work on your morning voice, blondie." He gestured to something at Blair's side. "And I'm actually asking because you have a missed call from him."

Blair glanced down at her phone - in fact, she had three missed calls from him.

"Persistent," Chuck murmured, watching her. "Isn't he?"

"Like a bad smell," Blair replied in annoyance. That brought a smirk to his lips. (She saw it, even if no one else did). And she really was supposed to be making him jealous. "Actually, he's the son of an ambassador." She paused for effect. "Very well connected."

At that, Nate started chuckling. "You mean he's a drug dealer?"

His mirth died a little at the glare Blair shot him. "Opinion, Archibald?"

"Not required," he sighed, raising his hands. "I know."

The brunette folded her arms, regal even on the floor. "Well, that was a boring truth." Her head tilted at Chuck. "I expected better."

Chuck gazed right back. "Dare it is."

"I told you, I am not taking off-"

"Don't get your La Pearlas in a twist," Chuck sighed. He paused, thinking about her La Pearlas and satisfied that she hadn't contradicted him. Blair gave him a look; she knew damn well what he was thinking. He smirked. "I'll start with an easy one. I dare you to kiss Serena." Very third grade, but just as effective. He leaned back comfortably. "Thirty seconds, tongues. Obviously."

Nate perked up and the girls rolled their eyes at each other.

"Done."

Chuck watched as the blonde's hands tangled in Blair's dark curls; aware of his gaze, Blair maoned into the other girl's mouth. Then they were both laughing too hard to carry on.

"Ok," Serena spluttered, wiping off Blair's lip gloss (Chuck wondered if it was fruity). "Your turn."

Nate started to protest, but Chuck was already leaning in with a lazy smirk. It wasn't like he'd never kissed a guy before. Blair found her eyes tracking the hard slant of his jaw.

"Tongues!" Serena demanded; and Nate yanked back at that.

"No way. No offense man," he complained, "But I don't know where your tongue's been. This dare isn't fair."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Jeez, Archibald. I never knew you were such a whiny baby."

Serena shot a sly glance at her boyfriend, and then between Chuck and Blair. "Ok, B." Her grin was wide. "You do it." Nate grinned too.

"It's not my turn," Blair informed her sweetly.

"We can make it your turn," Chuck was swift to intercut.

His eyes slanted at her, his smile wicked in the flickering scented candle light. And then, of course, Blair was thinking about his tongue. Her eyes fell on his mouth. She was pretty sure he had to be an amazing kisser. She thought of her own rather lukewarm experiences with lacrosse players and found herself wondering if Chuck's lips were as hot as his skin. Well. Not wondering, really.

"As you forfeited, Nate, you get another dare." She dragged her gaze away from Chuck and back to the unfortnate blond. "I think this calls for streaking."

* * *

The dress was finally off, folded carefully on one of the chairs. Her teddy was draped in Chuck's dress shirt - he wore just his vest over his trousers - as a result of another forfeit.

Nate and Serena were quiet for once, and they could hear the sea in the distance and the faint sound of music somewhere.

Chuck angled his head so that he could glance at her. Her cheeks glowed, luminous, as they lay on their backs on the cabana porch. He could smell the shampoo from her hair brushing his. She turned to face him too; and they gazed at each other in the darkness. Too tempted from the heat of her body and the scent of her, he leaned his head in so that his lips almost brushed hers. He'd been thinking about the kiss he was denied in the game; but a memory sprang to his mind unbidden.

The day she was leaving. Bags packed and goodbyes said to Serena and Nate. He'd slipped into the car before it had departed. They were alone because Carter was still sorting the last of her things in the penthouse. She'd been thin and pale in the new uniform - even slighter than she was now - hands clasped rigidly in her lap. "I thought you weren't going to bother saying goodbye."

He'd just about managed a smirk. "Best for last, Waldorf. You know that."

She'd smiled too tightly.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't."

"Not much, then." She'd closed her eyes, so he'd given her a nudge.

"You'll have them under your thumb in hours."

She'd nodded.

"I expect regular updates."

She'd swallowed, and suddenly opened her eyes and looked at him. And he'd seen fear; real fear. "I don't want to go."

It was somewhere between a whisper and a plea, blurted out in shame. Trembling. And he'd looked at her, and realised she didn't look like Blair Waldorf any more. Or not the Blair Waldorf he was used to. She just looked like a little girl. Scared.

And he didn't know what else to do - so he'd leaned forward and kissed her, hard. He'd tasted the salt of a single tear and felt her heart thumping under his.

Then Carter had come back. Chuck had only given her a glance before he left; but once the car drove away he'd stood there, staring after it in silence, long after it had disappeared.

He glanced down at her now. There were no tears, just her dark eyes in the porchlight and champagne so close he could almost taste it. He could almost taste her.

She leaned forwards too, nose brushing his. "Chuck," she murmured. Her fingers cupped his face - and she smiled, slowly. "Chuck, we haven't even had our first date yet." Her tone was sweet as she patted his cheek. "Who do you think you're dealing with?"

And then, still smirking, she jumped to her feet. He tried not to groan at the loss of contact and she stood there, sillouhetted in the light with her arms folded. He remained on his back, gazing up at her. "You really are a bitch," he sighed in admiration. "Aren't you?"

She grinned, content. "Yes."

He propped himself up on his elbows; and he watched as she sauntered away from him, still smirking, with a last glance over her shoulder that practically dried his mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

_'And in the crush of the dark, I'll be your light in the mist_

_I can see you burning with desire for a kiss.'_

* * *

Chuck came into the kitchen to find Evelyn lazily pouring herself a martini. The party had long since dispersed into the darkness of the night, and she no doubt had someone waiting upstairs for her. She made no effort to glance up as he entered; he looked at her, silent, as he tossed down his jacket.

His voice was low. "What the hell was that?"

She rolled her eyes, taking in the drink. It was far more interesting than her son at the moment. "A test, Charles." She sounded bored.

His own eyes narrowed. "Well it didn't work."

And at that, she did lift a brow. There was indolent amusement under her disinterest. "On the contrary. It told me all I needed to know."

Chuck watched her in silence.

"She wore the dress because I wanted her to. She does exactly what she's told. And that," the woman murmured, "Is useful." Her dark eyes flickered to the boy, mocking. "You could learn to do the same." Those eyes slanted and her voice was sinuous. "Do I need to remind you what's at stake?"

Chuck glowered, cold with loathing. He grabbed a bottle of scotch and turned his back on her, heading for bed.

"A date," Evelyn called after him idly. "In public. They need to know you're...monogamous." The word curled from her lips in a sneer, a low throaty laugh.

He slammed the door. Hard.

* * *

Blair lay in her enormous bed and gazed up at the ceiling. It was dark, but Serena's muffled breathing drowned it out. Nearly two weeks had passed since she'd arrived, and it had taken Blair that long to realise she was actually having fun.

Being with Serena - being with Chuck or Carter or Nate - every hour of the day meant she hadn't weighed herself or gone for a run in two weeks. She couldn't believe how easy it was. And part of her knew it wasn't the real world - not the lounging by the pool or the afternoon cocktails - but it had been so long since she'd allowed herself to do any of those things.

And it was_ fun_.

Not perfect, of course. Chuck was winding her up no end, and she was aware that her intense craving for his company wasn't exactly healthy. But of all her bad habits, it was the only one that felt so good. In between leisurely lunches and shopping with Serena, their games had become the focal point of her day.

They were both waiting for him to ask her out - on a date that she fully intended to refuse. The first few times, anyway. He'd leaned over her the other night, as they'd been sprawled in a hammock after Serena's ice cream sundaes.

"Waldorf."

His eyes had glowed so black in the night she couldn't help falling into them; and his thumb had grazed her lip, burning. Her breath had caught in her throat - not that she'd let him see it. He paused for a moment.

"You have chocolate," he'd traced her mouth as he said it, wicked gleam. "Here."

She'd smacked him and stalked off - upending him from the hammock on the way.

She'd got him back the following night when Serena had convinced her to play Pick Up. The rules were simple - the winner got the most numbers in one night. She might ordinarily have balked at the idea of playing with Serena (who would be stupid enough to even try competing with her?) - but, emboldened by one too many tequila shots and Chuck's eyes on her, she'd jumped into it.

A too drunk Serena had been carried home by Nate before the game was up - and Chuck had stayed, watching, as Blair picked up the number for her dinner date the next day. Sean or Simon, she wasn't sure - but he was Ivy League and taller than a certain Basstard.

Chuck had promptly showed him up at said dinner, sly comments and nudges that only Blair would understand, smirk in place as he tore the unfortunate guy to shreds.

Blair was still plotting her next move.

Evelyn Bass had disappeared as expected, bored within four days; and it was a relief, but Blair wasn't stupid enough to think that out of sight meant out of mind. Carter had relaxed a little too, leaving Chuck and Blair to get on with it. He was still watching, of course - but apparently he'd made the decision to trust Chuck. For now. And when Carter relaxed, Blair did too. It had been a while since both brother and sister had enjoyed themselves.

But the best part of all of it was that she'd had no nightmares. Perhaps it was all the late nights or drinking; maybe Serena's presence in the room or falling asleep on the terrace or cabana surrounded by the four of them. Either way, Blair was savouring it. Greedy and desperate. No more waking up alone, fighting back tears and cold sweat? She could live with that.

She wanted to cling onto it - all of it - and never let go.

* * *

"Vodka?"

Chuck held up the bottle with a roll of his eyes.

"Ice and mint for the girls?"

His grin was faint. "Of course."

"Rum?"

At that, he gave Carter a look. "What do you think?"

The other boy smirked back. They were headed down to the harbour, sunglasses and towels slung over their shoulders. Nate had got there first, since it was his family yacht - and the girls, Chuck could already see leaning off the side. Or at least he could see Blair, short white skirt and blue halter neck, ridiculously large hat and lips pursed. Her first task had been to inspect Nate's handiwork.

"Helloo," Serena called, long arms wrapped around the railings. She may as well not have bothered with her summer dress. Her teeth gleamed white in the sun. "Ready?"

Chuck's eyes slid to Blair's; a light wind was already whipping her curls around her face as his gaze travelled up her slim brown legs. She folded her arms, arching an eyebrow.

He flashed her a charming smile. "More than."

Nate had moored the yacht just as the sun rose to its peak, burning down on their skin in the sea breeze. Blair proceeded to jump up from the white leather seat, smoothing her skirt and hair. She'd been curled like a cat while they'd streaked through the waves, Chuck's arm thrown over the side of the boat next to her.

She'd pretended to ignore it, even as his fingers had brushed her arm.

"Drinks!" Serena was already reaching for the cooler.

Blair slid her arm through the blonde's, pulling her to back of the boat for prime sunning. "We'll have two mojitos," she flicked over her shoulder with a smirk at her brother. "Thanks." Carter rolled his eyes and pulled out the cocktail mixer.

She was just getting comfortable when a shadow fell over her. Of course. Chuck sighed and tossed his own towel down, taking care to stretch out between the two girls. Boundaries never had been his strong point. He leaned back on his elbows, one forearm against the curve of Blair's spine as he gazed at her.

"Having fun?"

"I was untill you came along."

Serena shook her head, unseen; and Blair fell back against her own elbows. He wasn't going to faze her - not for a second. And he sipped his rum straight, enjoying the sight of the sun playing over her bare shoulders, dark head tipped back. She closed her eyes, perfectly aware of his gaze, and proceeded to ignore him like only Blair Waldorf could.

Quite predictably, Serena was bored within an hour. She leaned back against Nate's bare chest, legs dangling above the glittering water.

"Time for a dip?"

She smiled up at her boyfriend; he grinned back, eyes as blue as the sky around them. Blair watched as they grabbed each other's hands and plunged in, laughing, just like that.

Serena shrieked, tossing her blonde hair in the waves, while Nate shook the droplets out of his eyes. Their smiles were wide and white and real and Blair felt a sudden pang of longing. She didn't know where it had come from.

Her eyes slid to Chuck without thinking - and she realised, to her surprise, that he was watching the same surveyed him in silence. His gaze turned to hers and his lip curved slightly. Not exactly happy, but real. And there was a look in his eyes that she understood without needing to ask.

"How about a deal?" His voice was a murmur. "One jump in exchange for one date." She stared; and she was aware he hadn't clarified. One jump from her, one date from him? Or one jump from him and one date from her?

He got to his feet abruptly, hand reaching down for her.

"Coming?"

She paused, eyes flickering between the blue of the ocean and the darkness of his eyes, shaded in the sun. And Carter behind her, that same sun hot on her neck.

* * *

_Six years ago_

The afternoon had been hot, and Blair had sat alone on the towel. Serena was busy being sociable as ever.

She'd been looking forward to a day of beach tanning with her best friend, but the blonde was surrounded by a group of guys. Guys that hung onto her every word, laughing with each toss of her golden hair, volleyball game forgotten.

Blair was far from an outcast - but that day was supposed to have been no boys. And what was the point in attempting to flirt when she was standing next to Serena? Serena, whose long body was already a rich gold to match her hair; who'd already filled out her bikini. The guys were several years older - but talking to Serena, that didn't seem to be an issue.

Blair had tried that summer. She really had. She'd been so determined to have fun; so determined it _hurt. _It had been seven months.

Hamptons was supposed to be all about friends, anyway. Not family - kids went to the beach, and parents sunned themselves in cabanas.

And she'd known she was only digging the knife deeper, but still the sharp and futile longing had overwhelmed her. She wouldn't care about any of this if she had Harold's hug as he told her she was the prettiest girl in the world. She wanted to show Eleanor her tan. Show her she could wear that white dress now.

She'd wanted to go home and see her father massaging her mother's feet on the terrace. She'd wanted Carter to slouch in late, Eleanor's raised eyebrows as she fussed over his dinner and Harold's indulgent smile. And she couldn't help the savage sting of tears as she sat by herself. She'd told herself she wasn't allowed to cry any more.

She didn't want to smile and stand stiffly next to her gorgeous best friend, knowing those gazes were passing straight over her.

She'd had _enough_. Enough of feeling sorry for herself - enough of pretending everything was fine every goddamn second of every day. Enough of trying. _If I smile widely enough and work hard enough and act bitchy enough_, _then nothing's changed._

Everything had changed. Blair had been nearly twelve years old, and she was exhausted. She'd wanted to scream as Serena's laugh sailed over her. She loved her best friend, but sometimes she hated her. Sometimes she hated her so much it made her feel sick. She hated that other people loved her.

(She hated that Eleanor had loved her.)

She'd got up and tossed her unread book to the floor. It made a thump that no one heard. "I'm going for a swim."

Serena glanced up, and Blair had hated the wave of relief that passed over her because Serena had noticed. The guys followed her gaze and then skimmed right over when they realised who she was talking to. Just a little girl.

Blair was going to scream - or worse, cry - and she needed to get out of there.

The sun was hot and sticky in between her legs as she moved stiffly down to the edge. She walked in without hesitation, cold water seeping through her skin as the salt stung. She waded deeper and deeper till the water cooled her hot shoulders, dipped her burning face in and swam properly.

Harold had taught her how to swim.

She remembered lurching through the water, arms stretched as she strained to reach him; eyes screwed up tight till she was sure she had to be there - the pause as she lifted her head, the sound of his voice filling her ears once more - trying to stay afloat, chest heaving - and his eyes, crinkled brown as he held out his own arms. The safety when she finally reached them.

She sank under the waves then, sunlight and Serena's laugh silenced. She pushed down further - further from the shore, further from the surface - colder and darker and more alone.

She hadn't realised how far away she was. She hadn't realised how strong the current was - not until she wondered if she'd need air soon. And then she'd tried to push her way to the top again, a vague part of her confused at the struggle. And another part of her, distanced, wondering what would happen if she never made it to the surface again.

No more sunlight.

No more people.

No more noise and no more smiles.

It was only when she finally did surface that she realised her lungs were burning and her legs weak. And she didn't have long for that thought before another wave smashed into her, pulling her under again.

And it _hurt_.

She was suddenly kicking, straining for the shore - where was Serena? Where was the shore? And then the panic started as she realised if she couldn't see Serena, Serena couldn't see her. Serena probably wasn't even looking.

No shore.

There was no shore - and another wave crashed into her, and she had no control either.

There was nothing she could do except fight, and the sea listened to no one. Her feeble attempts to stay above the surface did nothing - and she couldn't threaten or bribe the sea - she couldn't scream her way out of this. She choked on water, head throbbing and vision cloudy, eyes streaming from the salt. The waves didn't wait for her to catch her breath, and panic bloomed, heavy and deadly, as she was pulled under again and again.

She didn't know if she passed out - she didn't know what up or down or sea or sky was any more - but there was suddenly a wrenching pain in her arms, searing as something tightened around her chest and dragged her. It wasn't the sea; it was deliberate and far more painful. She could've sworn there were nails pressed into her skin as her body went limp.

And then it was black.

She woke up with her lungs on fire, coughing out half the Atlantic - and Carter was crouched over her, jaw clenched - his face so white it was almost grey, blue eyes ragged with fear.

"Don't you _ever _do that to me again."

He told her next week that he'd filled out her application to Canterbury Accademy. And regardless of whether it was to that particular school - she was getting out of New York.

* * *

_Now_

She glanced back at Carter.

"Waldorf."

Chuck raised an eyebrow at her.

Carter was watching her - watching them - and he gave a little nod. No more than a jerk of his head, eyes on his sister.

She turned once more to the coolness of the water and closed her eyes even more briefly than Carter had. Chuck was at her side.

And then she jumped.

* * *

Chuck was aware of the waiter's eyes on Blair as he held out her chair; and it made him smirk. She was looking particularly gorgeous in a deep red dress, single flower tucked into straightened hair. Yes, he'd been smug when he'd walked into the restaurant with her on his arm.

No more smug than she'd been at the envious glances several older women had shot her.

The restaurant was naturally the most expensive, water-fronted with low candle light and mahogany detail. Chuck had chosen it for the atmosphere rather than the price, since candles were a must with Blair.

She smiled up at the waiter now, barely glancing at the menu before she ordered for the both of them. The man paused, throwing a glance at the boy for confirmation. (Who intimidated him more - sir or madamoiselle?)

Chuck didn't bother rerturning the look. "And she'll have the dauphinoise potatoes."

An in-built mechanism in Blair blanched at the idea of that much cream and carbs; "I will n-"

"Thanks."

The waiter scurried off.

Blair attempted a glare in Chuck's direction, but he was too busy scanning the wine list. And once it came, he gazed across at her as he raised his glass.

"To us."

Blair's mouth pursed, but she took a slow sip rather than contradicting him. His eyes gleamed in the light and the wine was perfect, of course. He watched her lips on the crystal as he drank for himself; his leg brushed hers, under the table.

They hadn't had an evening that was just the two of them for as long as Blair could remember. Which was strange, when you thought about it.

She cast a small smirk in his direction and he leaned back, effortlessly elegant in his chair. His gaze never left hers, and he made no attempt to conceal his eyes roving her face, golden in the candle light.

He was going to enjoy tonight.

* * *

Blair placed her martini glass on the bar. She gave her hair a little toss, and he watched it fall back against her neck with idle pleasure. He'd spent most of dinner notcing the glossy strands brush her collar bone and wishing they were tangled in his fingers instead.

"Excuse me."

Her hand slipped across his thigh as she slid down from the bar stool; he paused for a moment as her fingers brushed him, there - and her smile told him this was exactly the reaction she'd wanted.

"Guard my drink?"

Her voice tickled his ear. He held his hand out to let her go, barely able to repress his hungry grin. She sashayed off to the ladies room, his eyes fixed on her retreating figure with deep satisfaction.

Well, he mused. She played first date to perfection. His gaze flickered to her glass; he could just make out the press of her lips against its surface. He liked this game. He was just reliving the light in Blair's eyes and the swish of her dress against her narrow waist when some guy - clearly lacking a few brain cells - dropped down into her vaccated stool.

Chuck's gaze was withering as he took in his expensive suit and slicked back dirty blond hair. "This seat is taken." His lip curled in irritation.

The guy turned to look at him, and there was something about the expression on his face that bothered Chuck. But not half as much as the fact that he was in Blair's seat. Some people just had no clue. "Oh. I'm sorry."

He didn't look it.

"Move," Chuck sighed. "Now."

"You know, it's a free country. And this seat was empty."

At that, Chuck spared him a look of incredulity. "Are you mentally challenged?" His voice was softly tipping towards dangerous. "Get out of my girlfriend's seat."

The guy's face contorted for a moment. "She's not-"

"What's going on?"

Chuck rolled his eyes in relief as she reappeared. "Finally, Waldorf." He ignored the other guy now. "Would you care to tell this cretin where to go?"

Blair, however, was regarding said cretin between narrowed eyes. "Damien? What are you doing here?"

Chuck glanced up at the name. So this was Damien. He appraised him with a raised knew Blair's taste; clearly Damien didn't. He'd already got to his feet, smiling as he moved towards her. "Didn't you get my text? I tried calling. I'm spending the summer here."

Chuck uttered a snort of disbelief. "Is he for real?" His gaze skimmed over the man once more, dismissing him before he moved back to Blair. "I didn't think stalking was creepy till now."

Blair shot him a warning glance, but he'd seen the flicker of amusement in her eyes.

"I'm sorry." Damien's voice was cold. "And you are?"

But Chuck had already got to his own feet, tossing a note on the bar as his arm curled around the small of Blair's back. "Leaving."

Damien watched, spitting, as he led her out of the restaurant without a backwards glance.

* * *

The house was dark and quiet when they finally reached it. They'd walked the long way home, via the beach; shoulders brushing and his hand still nestled in the hollow of her back like it belonged there. He regarded her now in the dim light of the hall. "So." His smirk was engrained.

She arched an eyebrow back. "Is this the end of my date?" Her mouth was petulant, and he'd never wanted to kiss it more.

"A true gentleman would walk you to your room."

A sharp grin curved her lips. "What a shame you're not a true gentleman."

He'd already wrapped her fingers in his, palm grazing hers as he followed her up the stairs. She was aware of his eyes burning into her back the whole way up; and her spine tingled.

She turned to face him once they were outside of her door - she'd realised, abrupt, that the room was empty. "Serena's not back."

"No doubt up to good with Nate." He left little doubt of his desire to do the same with her; she opened her mouth to retort, but he suddenly leaned into her, hand sliding up the wall so that he'd trapped her against it.

He smirked down into her eyes, glowing brown. "One first date," he murmured into her lips. "Do I get a kiss now?"

She tilted her head up at him, and he could see her white throat and the curl of her eyelashes. Slowly, she leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed the corner of his mouth.

Her lips were butterfly soft and so close he nearly groaned.

He turned his head to kiss her properly; and, smiling even through her caught breath, she ducked her own head so that his lips grazed her brow instead. The gesture would have been coy from anyone else - but that smile informed him she knew exactly what she was doing.

"One kiss," she purred. "As requested."

His mouth twitched. And his eyes didn't leave hers as he dropped his mouth to her neck and pressed another kiss, lips lingering, to the base of her throat. He inhaled the scent of her perfume and the velvet of her skin, feeling the lightest of termors in her slender body.

And then she pushed against his chest. "Night night, Bass."

Her smile faded ever so slightly as she moved into the room.

(Dark. Alone.)

Chuck's voice sounded from right next to her, grazing her ear as she'd done his. "Want some company?"

He was in the perfect place for her elbow as she thrust it into his ribs; even in the darkness, she could feel his grimace of pain and pleasure. He was still smirking as he left. He took his time - and she was seized, suddenly, with the urge to ask him to come back. To stay.

(Don't leave me).

And then she was annoyed with herself for being so pathetic. So irrational. So what if Serena wasn't there? Blair Waldorf was perfectly capable of sleeping by herself. She had for the past eighteen years. She'd dealt with it for the past seven. She listened to the silence - absence of Chuck - for just one more second before she forced herself to get ready for bed.

Then she switched off the light, lips pressed together, and pulled the covers up to her chin. Her mind wondered back to Chuck's lips on her skin instead of the darkness; and her toes curled in the remenants of pleasure.

She was fine.

* * *

She wasn't fine three hours later.

She woke, sobbing, fighting with the covers. Thrashing in the bed for someone that wasn't there. No blonde - Serena wasn't back yet.

She was alone alone alone as she scrabbled out of the bed, hating herself for the humiliation as she fumbled for the light. Still her breathing was ragged; and she knew the shadows would be waiting for her the second she switched it off again. She got to her feet, fighting with the urge to run, and made it to the kitchen.

Her hands shook as she poured herself some water. Her heartbeat was slowly returning to normal, but she could feel the tears on her cheeks and she hated them.

And the glass slipped out of her hands, horrified, as she suddenly realised there was a pair of eyes in the darkness. Shards shattered at her feet, water pooling as Evelyn Bass emerged from the shadows.

She regarded the white girl in silence. "Are you all right, darling?" Her voice was slick and cool as ever.

Blair jerked to her knees, reaching for the tissues to clean up the mess; "Mrs. Bass." Her voice didn't sound like her own - still high with terror. A stupid little girl. She tried to bring it back down, sharpen it. Manners. "What are you doing back?" The woman had caught her. She knew. She could see the treacherous tear marks on her cheeks; see her scrabbling around like an animal.

And she watched her impassively, now, in the dark. She made no attempt to help with the glass or water. "I hear you and Charles had a date."

Blair straightened her spine. "Yes."

Evelyn smiled. "Careful with that, lovely. You don't want to hurt yourself." And she swept out as Blair's stomach sank, slowly, with cold fear.


	6. Chapter 6

_'Fix me or conflict me - I'll take anything.'_

* * *

"Blair."

Blair repressed a flicker of annoyance as Damien came to a stop in front of their table. She'd just been enjoying her lunch.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"Actually-"

But Serena, perking up once she realised she recognised him from Blair's phone, was already crying, "Of course!"

Blair looked at her in outrage; the blonde grinned. Serena didn't naturally stir up trouble, but she was curious to meet the guy. And her grin broadened when Chuck gave her a matching look of disgust. (It was good to keep him on his toes, wasn't it?)

Nate, picking up on the tension, made a half hearted attempt to be friendly. "So you were at school with Blair?"

Damien had managed to secure the seat on Blair's right side. Unfortunately, Chuck was on her left. And his arm was tossed over the back of her chair like he owned it.

"For six years," he smiled. Tightly.

Six years when you weren't there, Chuck Bass.

But Chuck was muttering something in Blair's ear with an idle tilt of his head; something that made her lips tighten and her eyes gleam. She turned her own head away, and Damien was satisfied until Chuck shifted in his seat. And then Damien realised, horrified, that her small hand was on his thigh, nails pressed into the expensive material of his pants. And he looked like he was loving every second of it.

She withdrew her hand, but Chuck still wore that smug grin. He was whispering something else to her now.

"...Sport?" It took Damien a second to realise that the blond guy was still talking to him.

"No," he snapped. "I don't have time for sport." He made no attempt to keep the scorn out of his voice.

Serena stiffened, brow creasing. She and Nate exchanged a frown.

"So what are you up to later?" Damien leaned over to address his question solely to Blair; and she finally deigned to look at him. Her dark eyes were unimpressed.

"I don't know."

"I was thinking of going to the beach."

He'd done enough watching to know that the four of them inevitably ended up at the beach in the afternoon.

"That's nice," Chuck drawled. His gaze was contemptous, almost amused as he added something unheard to Blair. His fingers were tracing a lazy pattern on her bare arm, and it made Damien sick with hunger. She wasn't even looking at him any more. He was about to say something when an equally haughty voice sounded behind him.

"Who's this?" Carter was standing behing his chair; he didn't bother to wait for an answer. "Move."

Damien glowered as he realised he had no choice but to get to his feet - not that Carter appeared to notice. He dropped into the chair like Damien had never existed.

Fucking Carter Waldorf. Damien had introduced himself to the guy several times already.

"Guess who I ran into," he was telling Chuck now. "Laetitia Lloyd-Davies."

"Lucky you." Chuck sounded bored. "What did she want?"

Carter was saying something about Ibizia, but Damien's eyes had slid to Blair at the mention of another girl's name. Her face revealed nothing. And Chuck still had her in his grasp.

"What?" Serena sounded most upset. "What do you mean you said no?"

Carter rolled his eyes. "The invitation wasn't extended to you, blondie."

"Oh please," she cried. "Like you don't pick up girls along the way anyway." She folded her arms. "Why can't you take us this time?"

"We're not going to Ibizia," Carter sighed.

It was Nate's turn to protest now. "Why not?"

Damien nearly felt panic rising - but then he remembered that there was no way in hell that Blair would say yes to an Ibizia trip. It was expensive, but it wasn't classy - not like the Hamptons. Drugs and partying every night? No way would Blair agree to that much hedonism.

But Chuck might. In fact, if he left Blair here -

"It might be fun."

Damien was unable to stop the rush of glee at Chuck's comment. And while he was screwing all the short skirts in Ibizia, Damien would be the shoulder that Blair cried on.

Carter pulled a face as he glanced at his sister. "I thought this summer was meant to be with each other?" His tone was mocking, but they knew he wasn't. No way was he leaving Blair.

"So let's...be with each other," Chuck stretched out the words to leave little doubt as to his implication, "In Ibizia." His eyes rested on Blair as Carter lifted an eyebrow. He was watching her too, waiting for her reaction. He clearly had his doubts.

Damien waited for Blair to refuse.

"Unless you're too chicken, Waldorf?" That lazy curve of his voice as he gazed at the girl made Damien want to throttle him. But worse - far, far worse - was the answering gleam in Blair's eyes.

"Flying private?"

"Of course," Carter rolled his eyes.

She pursed her lips while the five of them waited; Serena and Nate hopeful, Carter questioning - and Damien full of dread.

But it was the challenge on Chuck's face that she answered. With a smirk. "Then of course I'm in."

* * *

"Jesus," Carter groaned as he lugged Blair's bag. "You do realise we're only going for a couple of days?"

Blair pulled a face at him. "If you hadn't sent James away - again - this wouldn't be a problem."

Carter scowled. "Necessity," he snapped. He couldn't have staff thinking they could go behind his back. (And to his sister, no less). He should have known it would backfire on him. His complaints stopped, abruptly, when he saw the size of Serena's bag. And Nate and Chuck nowhere in sight.

"I'll call James," he muttered darkly.

* * *

By the time James had picked them up and they'd got to the jet, their host was otherwise occupied. They were ushered onto the plane and seated by staff, who explained that Miss Lloyd-Davies would be out in a moment.

Carter and Chuck exchanged an eye roll.

"Looks like she brought Max."

Blair sank back against the deep leather seat as they took off, Serena at her side. The blonde was busy flicking through magazines and tucking into the cookies; Blair folded her hands on her lap.

She'd agreed to Ibizia because she hadn't wanted to lose face. Of course. There were added incentives - like no Evelyn Bass or Damien - but, in all honesty, she would have been more than happy staying in the Hamptons.

She didn't party. Not like that.

She could sip martinis and get giggly with Serena - and she was a natural in classy clubs and bars. But Ibizia was Chuck's scene. Carter's, Serena's - not Blair Waldorf's. She was an Upper East Sider, born and bred; and their life was hers. But she couldn't help but feel that this side of it - the wild one - she'd missed in boarding school. She was behind. And it was unacceptable for Blair Waldorf to be behind.

Seeing two weeks of hedonism as a duty was not the most thrilling of prospects.

She turned her head as she felt his eyes on her. He was gazing at her from the opposite seat, an amused twist to his mouth. Almost expectant. She flashed him a smirk in return. It was still a challenge - and it was one she was going to win.

At that moment, one of the panelled doors was thrown open and a tall red-head appeared. She had a an icy, effortless beauty and a large mouth, currently puckered in an expression of boredom.

"Why were you so late, boys?" But she didn't sound particularly bothered. Her gaze swept the cabin, flicking past Serena and Nate to land on Blair. One eyebrow raised, enquiring. This didn't look like one of Carter or Chuck's usual girls. And she wasn't sure she liked that idea. She rather enjoyed being the centre of attention, and - if she remembered correctly - she wasn't overly fond of the blonde girl as it was.

"I see you brought a friend."

Another head popped out of the door - "A friend? Is she hot?" Then, as a pair of eyes scanned her, "Oh good. She is."

The boy now standing in the cabin was equally tall, mahogany skinned with a dangerous white smile and dark, dark eyes.

"My sister, Max." Carter's eyes had narrowed. "Tish. We've got a lot to catch up on." He got to his feet, nodding brusquely for Max to follow. The message was clear - not an option. Sighing, Max did as he was told. The door swung shut behind the three of them.

Blair folded her arms.

"Well. She was rude." And beautiful. And British. Chuck seemed even more amused, so Blair turned towards Serena with a cool smile. "Although her friend didn't look bad."

High praise, coming from Blair Waldorf. It was intentional.

Chuck snorted. "Waldorf. I thought you were good at judging people."

"Max is cool," Serena laughed - and Blair made a mental note. Anyone Serena deemed 'cool' was not the kind of person Blair wished to befriend. Although she'd guessed as much anyway. She wasn't sure she liked not knowing people that Serena and Chuck - hell, even Nate - knew. She needed to catch up. Fast.

Still, she flipped her hair and reached into her bag. "Judging people doesn't stop me from appreciating beauty." She could feel Chuck's gaze as she applied her lip gloss, running it over her lips and pressing them slowly, deliberately together. She threw him a mean smile when she caught his eye. "I'm going to inspect the minibar."

She'd climbed to her feet and was fully intending on following Carter into the next room (just for a moment, and just to annoy Chuck) - but as she passed his seat, the Basstard lazily thrust out his legs to block her path.

"I've tried everything from the minbar." His eyes gleamed. "It's nothing special." Blair rolled her own eyes, going to climb past him - and he caught her waist, pulling her down.

She glowered as she found herself face to smarmy face with him. "You can let go of me now."

He sighed, content. "Never."

Blair gazed at him. "Chuck," she purred. "Jealousy's not very becoming. Unclench."

Both were mid glare when a voice sounded behind them.

"Well, well."

Max, arms folded, was inspecting Blair's legs with a wide smile. Her skirt had lifted slightly from her position in Chuck's lap. Realising, Chuck's hand slid over her bare skin to cover it. (She tried not to react to the heat from his fingers against her thigh, but he felt her back arch, just slightly).

"Let me guess," Max beamed. "She's your sister too?"

* * *

Damien glared at the photo of Chuck leading Blair down the private jet's steps and onto the tarmac. They were as good as holding hands, for fuck's sake.

_Looks like our favourite pair have touched down in party central..._

He hated Gossip Girl. It was official. Favourite? How could a gossip blog be rooting for them? And they weren't a pair. They weren't a couple.

They hadn't even -

It hit him then. They were going to sleep together in Ibizia. He could already see it. One drink too many, one pill that Chuck would no doubt tempt her to take; and that was it. He clenched his teeth. Fine. Chuck Bass could have his night with her.

When he broke her heart, Damien would be waiting.

* * *

They had two suites waiting for them when they arrived at the hotel, each with two bedrooms. Four bedrooms for seven people; Tish wanted them to pair off. So Serena would go with Nate, Tish with Max - and Carter wasn't happy with Blair sharing with Chuck or with him, due to the number of girls he was planning on bringing back.

"Luck you," he nudged his sister. "You get a room to yourself."

Blair bared her teeth in a smile. "Lucky me."

(Why hadn't they stayed in the Hamptons?)

Three in one suite, four in the other. Chuck wasn't too impressed that Carter's libido placed the blonds in a suite with Blair rather than himself.

"Don't worry, B," Serena was cheerful - "We'll keep the noise down." She exchanged a grin with Nate, and Blair pretended to gag.

(Although even sex noises were better than silence).

This was going to be a great holiday.

* * *

Of course, the first thing Serena wanted to do was go out - which was why Nate had been sent out of the suite and Blair was currently bemoaning her lack of clubbing clothes. Appropriate ones, that was; Serena had offered to lend her several ridiculous dresses.

This was why, Blair thought viciously as she yanked off yet another outfit, you planned for holidays. Blair was not a spur-of-the-moment girl. (In fact, part of her was missing her school schedule at the moment).

She had clothes for going out. Just not clothes for Ibizia. She'd seen plenty of girls wearing next to nothing, and the sun hadn't even set yet. Herein lay the problem with wanting to look classy and wanting to blend in - interests that had never before clashed in Blair's life.

The door opened, and Blair was about to yell at Nate to wait, already - when Tish wafted in instead. "I need to borrow your straighteners," she sighed. "I can't be bothered to unpack mine." She dropped onto the bed without waiting for an answer, and looked with interest at Blair's slip. "Is that what you're wearing? I like it."

Serena tried not to laugh at Blair's look of disbelief.

Tish was already riflling through their wardrobes. "Oh, I like this too." Blair glanced - and tried not to groan. It was the black dress. "You should wear this one, black's far more slimming." Then, as she took in Blair's figure again, "Although I suppose you don't need it."

"Thank you," Blair replied thinly.

Tish didn't seem to notice. "You and Carter are so beautiful. You've got all the right genes, haven't you? Your mother must be stunning." She paused a moment as something occurred to her. "Oh, I forgot. Sorry. But she probably was stunning."

Serena's gaze shot to Blair, anxious, but Blair just rolled her eyes. "Of course."

Tish seemed pleasantly surprised with that answer. She gave Blair a rare smile, anyway; she appreciated vanity in a person.

She'd already started running Serena's straightners through her lustrous hair when she thought of something else. "We should swap clothes. It'd be such fun." There was a moment's pause when Blair realised the girl was addressing her and not Serena - Serena who was actually the same height as the red-head. "Can I wear that?" She was pointing to the slip.

Blair arched an eyebrow. She wanted to wear her underwear?

"Actually-" Serena attempted, but Blair had already cut her off.

"Of course." Her smile was sweet.

Tish finally spared a glance at Serena. "Be an angel and go and fetch my bag?"

Blair wasn't used to anyone overlooking Serena van der Woodsen. Neither was Serena. She got, almost uncertainly, to her feet.

"Better get a move on," Tish added.

Serena's eyebrows had practically disappeared. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

If she was aware of the sarcasm, Tish didn't show it. She actually considered the question. "That's all."

Serena walked off, torn between confusion and disbelief as she shot a helpless look at Blair. Her best friend couldn't help but repress a faint grin.

"I've got a little silver thing that'll look gorgeous on you," Tish was saying as she moved onto the other side of her hair. "Nothing like your friend's clothes - they're a little garish, don't you think?"

Blair did, but she wouldn't accept anyone else saying that about Serena. Her lips pursed.

"You're sure to turn heads," Tish sighed. "You don't have a boyfriend, do you?" Then she remembered. "Oh, I guess you came with Chuck. But I doubt he'd mind."

"I'm pretty sure he would," Blair snapped. She was not having this girl assume she was another one of that motherchucker's one night stands.

"Oh?" Tish appeared interested, at that. "So what's the story with you two?"

* * *

"Come on," Max was grinning. "Tell me."

Chuck rolled his eyes. He wanted to fix his hair - not have a conversation. Especially not with Max. They were not friends. "There's nothing to tell." Chuck didn't bother to keep his tone polite.

"You haven't slept with her?"

"None of your business, Maxxie."

"So, can I sleep with her?"

Thank God Carter was in the shower. "No." Chuck's voice was little more than a snap. He would've added - and I'd like to see you try - but he knew that would just encourage the guy.

"So she's not your fuck buddy," Max sighed. "And you don't do girlfriends, so she must be a potential fuck buddy." His eyes lit up. "Unless - do you actually care about her?" He looked positively gleeful. "Please tell me this is the girl you're in love with?"

He wasn't prepared for Chuck Bass to round on him. Or for the look in his eyes. "Stop talking, Maxxie." His voice was a low growl. "Now."

And he stalked out of the room.

* * *

Two hours later, Chuck was several drinks down and surrounded by scantily clad girls - and not remotely happy. In fact, he'd never regretted pushing for Ibizia more.

Blair was looking delicious in a silver dress that definitely wasn't hers - and ignoring him, of course. He could've handled that were it not for the fact that the club was filled with guys who were far more persistent and hands-on than anywhere in the Hamptons.

Carter knew Blair could take care of herself in clubs, particularly with Nate and Serena. Plus he had his own agenda. But Chuck's feelings were not protective ones. Blair, dancing with that look in her eye, did not need protecting. She was punishing him.

And, worse still, it was working.

She smartly pushed off an over-eager admirer; and still she didn't look at Chuck. He watched as she motioned to Serena that she was getting a drink. He followed her, of course, eyes narrowed through the crowd.

"Waldorf." His voice was right against her ear, audible above the thumping music. "Having a good time?"

Her mouth curved pleasantly. "The best. Thank you."

Someone else had sidled up to her; Chuck pushed his way between them with a cold smile. "She's not interested. Get lost."

Blair's nose had wrinkled in disgust too. "Ugh. As if."

He followed her gaze with some amusement. "Care for a dance?"

"No," she smirked. "But you can pay for my drink." And she was gone.

Chuck scowled, throwing a note to the bartender. Damn Waldorf.

He was accosted by Max and Tish on the way back - and Tish was high, of course.

"Chuck!" Her usual languor had been replaced with far too much enthusiasm. "You know, Maxxie and I were just talking. We love your friend." She smiled as she leaned over to shout in his ear. "Seriously, you need to get with her!"

Chuck was so busy trying to disentangle himself from the long armed red-head that it took him a moment to notice Max had vanished. Prickling, he looked over - and sure enough, the guy was with Blair. The guy was dancing with Blair.

"You know, you really are beautiful."

Blair almost flinched as someone from behind wrapped an arm around her waist; and she turned to see Max. She pushed away instinctively, unimpressed, but noticed Chuck as she did so. Chuck and Tish.

She couldn't help the jealousy that tightened around her chest - earlier, Tish had made it clear that she'd slept with Chuck, adding that he was rather wonderful in bed. She'd suspected as much, but it was doing nothing to ease her irrational anger now.

Just because Chuck slept with that many girls didn't mean she had to see them. Or keep wondering just how wonderful in bed he really was. She'd stopped wandering hands at school, because she'd needed the control; but at boarding school there had always been plenty to distract her from sex. And thoughts of sex. Which always, inevitably, led back to thoughts of Chuck. It wasn't her fault he was so depraved. And now that she was Ibizia, where sex practically poured out of every throbbing bar and glowing beach, and he was...wearing a white shirt with scores of other sweaty bodies pressed against him.

"Don't worry," Max was laughing down at her, following her gaze. "Tish doesn't do things twice." His grin broadened. "Apart from me." He attempted to pull her into his arms, but she was stiff. "Come on. Don't you want to make him jealous?"

Blair's eyes slanted.

Actually, that didn't sound like a bad idea.

Chuck pushed Tish out of the way as he moved towards the dancing - dancing? Grinding, more like - couple. They slid out of his grasp as he approached, though, blocked by a mass of bodies. Blair tossed him a satisfied smile.

Annoyed, he tapped Serena's shoulder. Hard. She and Nate were momentarily distracted from their make-out session. "Look at Waldorf."

The blondes followed his gaze; and Serena laughed when she saw.

"Is someone a little jealous?" Nate grinned. Chuck had never disliked that stupid drunk smile more.

"What happened to girls looking out for each other?" he sneered at Serena.

"Oh, come on." The blonde waved a hand at their friend. "She's with Max. He's harmless."

Chuck gave her a look. "You know he's not."

Serena paused, at that, and she and Nate glanced over at Blair again. "All right, so he'll probably try and sleep with her. But Blair can-"

"What?" Chuck enquired. "Fend off a six foot guy off his face? By herself?"

Serena's smile faded a little. "I'll go get her."

Blair didn't need 'getting', though - as soon as she'd realised Chuck was no longer within eyesight, and Max's brilliant white teeth were just a little too close for comfort, she'd wriggled free.

The blonde grabbed her now. "Ok?"

"Can we get out of here?"

Serena's face brightened. "Sure! Somebody was telling me about a foam party-"

And before Blair could object, Serena was dragging her to find Chuck and Nate and leave. Blair repressed a scream of frustration.

She did not want to go to a foam party.

* * *

Chuck did not want to go to a foam party.

Dirty suds and Dior were never a good combination. At the very least, though, they'd managed to shake off Max and Tish. Carter was long gone too, no doubt enjoying the back rooms.

Blair wasn't speaking to him. He wasn't speaking to her either.

"It'll be fun," Nate was insisting as they were shown in the front door. Chuck could already smell the cheap beer. He and Blair exchanged grim glances before remembered they were ignoring each other.

Blair pulled a face at him and looked away.

"Come on, S."

"Archibald. I need a drink."

* * *

Despite herself, an hour later Blair was almost having fun. Fine. Not almost. And it was hard to maintain ignoring Chuck when she could see his drenched hair and the thumping music had filled her with a strange euphoria. Maybe foam parties weren't quite so bad. The shots she and Serena had downed possibly helped.

Her hair and dress were ruined, but right now, as Serena spun her around, she didn't mind all that much. She'd have a fit tomorrow - but that was then.

Right now, she couldn't help but laugh as she tipped her head back, another spurt of foam coating her hair and sliding down her back. Serena leapt on Nate with a delighted cry, rubbing more foam into his already drenched hair; he grabbed Blair in retaliation, scooping her off the floor.

She squealed, kicking back - and she found herself, quite abruptly, in front of Chuck.

His hand slid around her arm. Steadying her or catching her, she wasn't sure which. Maybe he wasn't either. His other hand held a small mound of foam. "Surrender?" His voice was low against the music, his eyes dancing. He couldn't stop watching her, her laugh and her smile and the heat of her body as he held her.

"Never," she promised, breathless; and suds clung to her eyelashes as her chest rose and fell under the soaked material of her dress.

The flashing lights over her bare arms and her smirk and all his frustration and jealousy - and the exhiliartion, now, as she smiled up at him and they both forgot who they were. He wanted her, and his mouth crushed against hers as her fingers tightened on his wet collar. His lips bruised hers and she bit back, desperate, and his hands were too tight on her waist.

It wasn't innocent, and it wasn't the sweet kiss he'd given her when she was just twelve - it was hard and hot and greedy. Her wet hands slid over his expanse of chest. His shirt was practically transparent, his skin burning underneath. He could taste the sharp tang of lemon as her soaked hair caught in his hands.

And her fingernails pressed into his back as she whimpered against his ear, barely giving them time to breathe, "I want to leave. Now."

If Nate and Serena stopped kissing for a second they might actually see them - but Blair wasn't even thinking about that. For a moment, there was quiet as he gazed at her - just his harsh breathing and the already meaningless music. She grabbed his hand in answer, her fingers small and tight in his.

His arm stayed just as tight around her waist as he hailed a cab; and they bundled inside, her wet body sliding over his. The cab ride was too long, the elevator up to her suite was too long, and her heart was pounding and her skin bursting, his muscles tight as he ached for her lips on his.

He was fairly sure she had no idea what she was doing, but her fingers ripped at the buttons of his shirt as she pushed him into her room, past the scattered dresses and straighteners, pushing the door shut as she fell backwards onto her bed.

His hand slid up the tight damp material of her dress, hot on her cold thigh - and she groaned as she remembered the heat of his fingers in the same place earlier. She wanted, needed his heat as she wriggled desperately underneath him; and then she was yanking at his collar as her legs curled around him and she pushed him down, stradling him, climbing into his lap. His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her tighter against him. And her fingers explored him greedily - touching, running over his chest with wonder because this was Chuck.

She'd been so good (so pure and so stiff and so cold in her perfect school unifrom) for so long; and now something dark and hungry and sticky was curling inside her. Something that seemed to ignite at his touch, and all she wanted to do was press herself into it; lose herself in it. In him.

(And there were flashes, painful and unknown that bubbled to the surface now - the odd dream in boarding school that wasn't a nightmare. Frustrating, delicious dreams that involved dark eyes and a touch she knew she recognised but would never admit to. Even to herself.)

She paused for a moment, fingertips brushing his skin as she gazed down into his eyes, black under hers. She knew those eyes, and still they jolted her. He was so familiar and so strange as he gazed back up at her that a shiver stole along her spine, right down to where his fingers rested on her skin.

She wanted this.

And he answered her - one hand ran over the zip of her dress, easing it down. She rubbed herself against him, nails digging into his shoulders while he helped her slide out of her clothes.

For all his experience, his own hands almost shook as they ran against the smoothness of her skin; so small and so hot in his grasp that his breathing was ragged. He was still asking her, she realised; even as his hands cupped her breasts and his fingers traced her spine. Her own fingers moved to his belt - she fumbled with it, whimper catching, and his hands covered hers to steady them. The tips of her fingers brushed his length, all curious greed and wonder as his eyes half closed, a low groan escpaing his throat.

He pulled her down, tighter, and then those fingers slid under the lace of her panties. She arched her back as he guided her down underneath him, caressing her upper thigh while her knees feel open. She could feel the thud of his heart above hers as his hand explored her and she grasped at the hair on the nape of his neck, clinging. He stroked her inner thigh, fingers probing, slow and rough to make her moan in pleasure.

The feel of her underneath him had dried his mouth completely, his head spinning with her scent, blood coursing. One finger slid inside her, and then the other; and he was all around her as he stretched and filled her, his body hard and heavy and wonderful on top of hers.

She pulled at his collar to pull him even closer, mouth somehow burying in the crook of his neck and her nose pressed against the heat of his skin.

He took her hand in his, guiding it lower so that she could touch his hardness; he groaned again and she could feel him pressing against her now. Her head tilted back as he entered her, her walls clamping down around him. His arms were rigid above her and she let out an uneven noise, because it was uncomfortable but still she craved his heat and the smell of his sweat, and there was something exhiliarating and disturbing about the rise and fall of his bare chest against hers.

When it was finished they both lay there, skin flushed and panting. Her hair was curling around her face, her pupils wide in the darkness. Her eyelashes fluttered closed for a moment; closed till her breathing returned to normal.

And then some dim part of her realised that she'd just had sex with Chuck Bass - that Chuck was on top of her and in her and around her, and it was too much. Her breath caught in her throat again, burning skin overwhelming her. His mere presence was overwhelming her; she couldn't bring herself to meet those black eyes. This was Chuck.

He kissed her then, lips rough against hers, and she felt herself relax again into his touch. Her back arched underneath him as her eyes slanted.

"You should go," she murmured. "If Nate and Serena come back..."

His hands crept down to her hips as he nipped her neck. "Then what?" His voice was low.

She tried to give him a glare, but it was a little half-hearted when her eyes were fluttering with pleasure at the feel of his lips on her collar bone. Again. She tried to push against his chest, but her hands ended up closing on his shoulders instead as she gripped his skin and his mouth carried on its path. "Then big..." He caught a spot that made her body press up, into his; "Trouble."

"Mmm."

Serena and Nate were the last thing on his mind as her arms curled around his neck, finger tips running over the nape. Her touch was still butterfly light - almost tentative - even given what they'd just done. He gazed down at her.

"Chuck," she murmured. "I'm tired."

"Waldorf," he murmured back. "Are you kicking me out?"

His eyes were still burning into her skin, she had to attempt to keep her voice light as her fingers stilled on the back of his neck. "Are we snuggling now, Bass?"

His smirk was slow. "Is that a euphemism for you want me again?" His hand traced her hip, but his voice was still slightly hoarse as he watched her.

She closed her eyes as she kissed him again, lips tingling against her already bruised ones. "As long as we set the phone alarm for an hour, and make sure you're out before they..."

He kissed her back.

She was disturbed by a shift, a sudden coldness; her last memory was drifting off against a heated chest, a hand caressing her spine and cooling sweat. Now the bed was empty.

She sat up, sharp, to see him moving about in the darkness of her room. "What are you doing?" She hadn't meant her voice to sound quite so tight.

She could see him angle his brow even without the light, eyes dark. He'd actually been forced out of bed to switch off the damn phone alarm. There was no sign of Nate or Serena. "I thought you wanted me to leave?" His head tilted as he regarded her. (He had to admit that he had no desire to do so...well, obviously not while she was still in her underwear).

She paused. "Right. Of course." How was his gaze quite so penetrating when it was this dark? She cleared her throat. "Are Nate and Serena back?"

"No."

Blair glanced down at the sheets. Well, then she should be telling him to sneak back to his own room while the going was good.

"Blair." He was suddenly aware of how alone she looked in that double bed, fingers tucked round the white sheets. His eyes had narrowed in silent question - realisation - (Serena's not back; want some company; lucky me) and he moved silently back to the bed. He looked down at her. "What if they're on their way back and I bump into them in the hallway?" he murmured. "I don't think you thought this one through."

She opened her mouth to protest but he was already kneeling on the mattress as his hands framed her body.

"I suppose you have a point." Her voice caught in her throat a little; and this time, when she lay back down he paused before he curled behind her, his hands hard against her stomach and his chin against her shoulder.

He watched, in silence, until she fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

_'So scared of breaking it that you won't let it bend'._

* * *

Blair woke to warmth; the heat of someone's chest behind her and hot breath against her neck. Not someone. Chuck. Chuck was in her bed, one arm heavy on her ribs.

Oh God.

Him staying the night had definitely not been part of the plan. Well, sleeping with him at all had never been part of the plan. Where was the control? Sleeping with him twice had definitely not been part of the plan. Where was the restraint? She was supposed to be teasing him. Not...moaning his name. Definitely not clinging to him in her sleep. But it didn't change the fact that she'd wanted him. That she wanted him. But hadn't she always known that?

Her spine stiffened as she attempted to ease herself away; and it was so hot and comfortable, his body so hard against hers, that one tiny part of her ached to press back into those arms and stay there.

She was confused, she realised as her eyes lingered on the shadows that played across his cheekbones. Dark hair messy, ruffled and in need of his expensive cut - but something about the slant of his eyes and his arm thrown across the space where she'd been - it made her ache. Even as muscles of his bare chest, the dark hair that trailed downwards under the sheet, made her neck prickle. She didn't know what this was. It was all very well flirting with him and acting like his girlfriend, but admitting to him that she wanted to sleep with him -

What was she supposed to do now? Blair Waldorf was never confused. And she was suddenly scared, she realised. She hadn't meant to go that far. Had she? (She'd wanted to). But she wasn't supposed to go that far.

Chuck confused her. Chuck...scared her. What if he'd noticed her holding on so tightly while she slept? She was suddenly gripped with the thought of having to face him when he woke up. Those amber eyes on hers. Eyes that had seen...all of her.

Out.

She turned and slipped out of the door, heart thumping.

* * *

"Oh dear." There was movement from between the sheets; a head popped up. "Did we have sex last night?"

Carter stretched languidly on his back. "I believe we did."

"How did that happen?" Tish sighed.

He glanced at her, smirking. "If memory serves, you threw yourself on me in the back room."

"Oh dear," Tish sighed again at how unfortunate it all was. "Maxxie won't be very happy." She swung her long legs over the bed, reaching for the nearest item of clothing. "You know the rule is never twice with other people."

Carter lifted an idle brow. "Twice? Not that I'm counting, but I think last night takes us up to four. Maybe five."

Tish pulled a face. "It can't happen again, darling." She draped Carter's shirt over her as she drifted to the door. "And you mustn't tell Maxxie."

Carter rolled his eyes and watched as she left the room, all legs. He hated to say goodbye, but he did love to see her go...

"Tish?" Chuck appeared, most unwelcome, in the beauty's place. He regarded Carter with a cocked head. "Again?"

"What can I say?" the other boy drawled. "Apparently coke makes me irresistible."

Chuck snorted. He was already moving into the room, though, reaching for his suitcase. "Well, I'll leave you to your post-coital bliss." He'd pulled out a fresh set of clothes and was heading out. "I'm sure you'll be busy avoiding Max."

"And where are you off to?" Carter enquired.

Chuck shrugged. "Time to get dressed."

Carter noticed, then, that he was still in his clothes from the other night. Or rather, his vest and pants. His brow arched. "What did you get up to last night?"

"Serena passed out again," Chuck muttered in response. "Though not before throwing up all over my shirt." He was already out the door. "I need a shower."

Chuck didn't bother showering; he threw on the clean clothes and headed straight out. He'd woken up to an empty bed. Given the amount of girls he'd left in the same way, the irony was not lost on him.

Last night had left him with a roiling stomach and a physical need to see her, touch her, taste her and smell her again. He knew watching her sleep was not Chuck Bass. (He also knew he'd do it again, knew that if she wanted him in the darkness he'd stay up all night).

He was more than aware that something very dangerous was going on with his feelings - Chuck Bass wasn't even supposed to have feelings - something dangerous that made him feel sick and restless and hungry.

Some part of him was screaming that all of this was inevitable (ChuckandBlair and their whole childhood - and Blair; when he'd kissed her, what else was there that was more right?) - while another part was blanching at the fact that this wasn't some girl, it was Blair. But the largest part - be it lust or that ache he got whenever he even thought about her - was quite clear.

Blair Waldorf did not get to escape that easily. And he needed to see her. Now.

* * *

"I was worried about you," Serena sighed sleepily as she helped herself to yoghurt. "We checked in on your room when we got back, and it was empty."

Even as relief flooded Blair - at least Serena hadn't seen Chuck - apprehension did too. He was up. Up and about. And she didn't know where. She'd run into the blonde in the corridor, and had managed to convince her to go to breakfast. Breakfast in the safe seclusion of a rooftop cafe. It was practically hidden. There was no way that -

"You know, if you wanted to avoid me," (Blair froze in her seat, equal parts dread and tingling at the sound of his voice), "A roof wasn't the smartest place to pick."

He nodded at the waiter to bring over a chair, sliding into it without being asked. He'd changed, but his hair was still ruffled from its place on Blair's pillow. An image she swiftly tried to banish. An easy smirk graced his lips, his eyes impossible to read.

Not that she looked. In fact, the menu really was very interesting. Not to mention a great barrier.

"Who's avoiding you?" Serena laughed, glancing between the two of them. "Blair?"

Blair fixed a sweet smile on her face. "Do I need a reason to avoid him?"

The blonde raised an eyebrow. She couldn't wait till she got Botox, Blair decided irritably. "Ok." Serena sighed. "What happened last night?"

She hadn't missed the way Chuck's eyes hadn't left Blair, or the glitter in them as he sat back now, expectant. Waiting for her answer.

"Last night," Blair replied crisply, "Your dragged me to a foam party. And the only reason I haven't killed you is because it was Tish's dress that got destroyed and not one of mine."

Chuck remembered the destroyed dress, damp and clinging to her body as she danced. He remembered the slide of its zip as he pulled it from her body and let it pool to her bedroom floor. He wondered if it was still lying there now - he hadn't checked - and was met with a furious glare from the object of his recollections. His smirk darkened. So she knew what he was thinking. Which meant she was thinking the same thing.

Serena rolled her eyes. "Fine, but what happened after the foam party?" She glanced between the two of them again, wishing that Nate was there. Chuck and Blair were impossible to interrogate alone. "You disappeared. Both of you," she added, for emphasis. "Together."

"I had a headache," Blair retorted. "Which, by the way, was also your fault." Her eyes narrowed. "No more tequila, S."

The blonde tilted her head. "So Chuck walked you home?"

Chuck opened his mouth, eyes alight, and Blair hastily cut him off. "Yes. And then he left."

"To go to bed?" Serena enquired. The doubt in her voice was obvious.

Blair paused. She was floundering. She couldn't deal with this. Not when she could feel his eyes on her and she knew Serena would explode. "Yes," she managed at last. "With Tish."

Serena's eyes widened in horror. But at least they weren't on Blair any more. "Ew, Chuck! Tish? Seriously?" She couldn't hide her disappointment as she stared at him. Why the hell was Chuck wasting his time with that girl? No wonder Blair was so pissed. She'd really thought he was getting his act together. That he was getting Blair back - not pushing her further away.

Chuck's eyebrows slanted dangerously. "I slept with Tish." His voice was low, deadly - and it was his turn to glare at Blair now. She was seriously going to play it like this?

But Blair had decided on her course of action - her lie - and it no longer mattered how insane it was. As long as it saved her from having to talk about what had happened last night. As long as it deflected the heat from her so that she could get back in control. (And not think about how much she wanted to do it again).

"Can we stop talking about it now? It's putting me off my breakfast." Her untouched breakfast. She tossed her hair, and Chuck's eyes flickered, seething, to the nape of her neck that was revealed. "More to the point, S, where did you and Nate go last night?"

And she proceeded to firmly ignore one burning gaze as Serena started on a story that she didn't actually process a word of.

Chuck went to grab her when Serena stood up, fully intending on keeping her at the table with him - but she slipped out of his grasp. And then her arm was linked, all too firmly, with the the blonde's as she frog-marched her away.

"Spa-time awaits, Serena!" She didn't look back, though she wasn't any less aware of Chuck's glower as she left.

* * *

Once they'd been shown into the cool interior of the spa and were sitting in silk dressing gowns surrounded by soothing music, Serena turned to her with a sigh. "I'm really sorry, B."

Blair took an innocent sip of her ginger and lemon tea. "Sorry for what?"

The nonchalance didn't work for a second. Serena sighed again. "He's an idiot."

"He is," Blair agreed, more than a little desperate to change the subject. Serena could be oblivious about some things, but when it came to her best friend she had an annoying habit of being oddly perceptive. Blair had hoped her time away would lessen it - apparently not.

"And," Serena added dutifully, "Tish is a slut. You know sex doesn't mean anything to Chuck. And a one-night stand in Ibizia? Not exactly classy." She was sure that was what Blair wanted to hear - sure it was the kind of thing the brunette would say.

Blair had paused. Her lips tightened, slightly, over her tea cup. "Well, it's a free country."

Serena blinked at her in disbelief. "What?"

"I mean," Blair cleared her throat, primly. "If Tish wants to sleep with Chuck, then that's her choice. There's no need to be judgemental about it."

Serena stared. Then she gave a little laugh. "Ok - who are you, and what have you done with Blair Waldorf?"

Blair's hand tightened on the cup once more. The soothing music was doing nothing for her. "You're not exactly in a place to judge yourself." Stop, Blair. Stop now.

The blonde's mouth dropped. She was clearly waiting for Blair to apologise - Blair did no such thing. She sat, very still, in her seat. What the hell was she even saying?

"What's that supposed to mean?" Serena asked at last. Her voice was very quiet.

Blair just gave her a look. She was being a bitch and she knew it - she didn't even mean it - but she couldn't stop now. Panic still welled inside of her as she forced herself to bite, "Just that one night stands are your specialty." Was that was last night had been? A one-night stand?

Serena's eyes widened, and she was shaking with anger now. Hurt. "Yeah," she answered. "They were." Blair felt a nasty stab of guilt that she fought back. "Which is how I know now that sex with the right person means something."

Blair swallowed.

It meant something.

Oh, this was so not what was supposed to happen.

"You're right," she choked at last. "Of course it does. Tish is a slut." Quickly, she climbed to her feet. Massage time. "And I'm not even going to talk to that Basstard again. Ever."

She meant it. Really.

* * *

"Where were you last night?" Nate yawned.

Chuck bit back a grimace. "Sleeping with Tish, apparently."

His best friend blinked in confusion, then, sparing him a look of surprise. "Tish? Seriously?" The blond looked like he couldn't quite make sense of that. It was far too early in the day. "But I thought..."

"What?" Chuck snapped.

Nate scratched his head. "What about Blair?"

"Trust me," Chuck said drily. "It's better this way." His mouth twisted. "I'm pretty sure Blair would agree."

Was Nate missing something cryptic? Sometimes he wished his best friend would just speak...like a normal person. "Ok, man." He could at least sense that now was not the time to push.

"Now," Chuck sighed. "Are we going to play basketball, or what?"

He needed to avoid Carter, and he could do with something to take his mind off all his pent up frustration. Particularly as Blair was currently otherwise engaged. And while he was playing, he could work out his strategy.

* * *

"Thank you, Lara."

Serena smiled at the masseuse as she climbed to her feet, basking in the pleasure of relaxed limbs. The massage had cleared her head - now all she needed to do was locate her best friend. Clearly Blair was hurting. Why else would she have lashed out like that? Serena sighed. Damn Chuck. She was going to give him a piece of her mind when she next saw him. What the hell had he even been thinking last night?

She was just about to move into the other room when the door swung open, and one of the last people she wanted to see wafted in. Tish noticed neither Serena nor the the cold look she was giving her.

The blonde cleared her throat pointedly. "Did you have fun last night?" she enquired.

It took a moment for Tish to even realise someone was addressing her. She barely spared Serena a smile when she saw who it was. No, she was sure she wasn't a fan of that one. "Of course," she shrugged. (Did they talk now, or something?)

"Well," Serena said coolly. "I hope it meant as little to you as it did to him."

There - that would show her. No one got away with treating her best friend like that.

(She missed the look of faint bewilderment on Tish's face. Carter knew where they stood, didn't he? Was the blonde girl jealous, or something? She'd been sure that other blond was her boyfriend. She supposed there was no pleasing some people.)

Unfortunately, Blair picked that moment to walk into the room. She paused when she saw who was in it. The effects of her massage were suddenly non-existent. And she paused when she saw the look Serena was giving Tish. Oh, great.

"Blair," Tish smiled, oblivious. "Darling, you looked sensational last night. We must swap clothes again some time."

She was also oblivious to Serena's glare of outrage. In fact, the blonde was on the verge of saying something - so Blair grabbed her arm, quick.

"We should." She was already frog-marching the blonde out for the second time that day. "Come on, S."

Serena allowed herself to be led out for Blair's sake, though she was still bristling. Tish was driving her best friend out of rooms now? She was definitely going to have words with Chuck.

The masseuse didn't need to listen to the slamming door to pick up on the tension. She raised an eyebrow at Tish once the girls were gone. "What was all that about?"

The red-head lifted a shoulder. "Frankly? I have no idea." She sighed. "Americans are so odd. Particularly the blonde ones."

* * *

It was not Chuck or Blair's day.

Or Carter's, for that matter.

Blair was fully set upon returning to her suite once they'd left the spa - (at least she could lock herself in, and with any luck housekeeping had changed the sheets; if not, she'd steal Serena's room) - except they had to walk past the basketball courts.

Blair saw him at once, of course. Even from that distance. Sadly, so did Serena. Before Blair could dig her heels in, the blonde was already spouting some nonsense about talking to Nate - not that she was believed for a second. Blair knew damn well that her beloved, misguided - and transparent - best friend had clearly decided it was time to talk to Chuck.

No way was she going up there. The Bass-hole currently had his back to her - if she left now, maybe she'd stand a chance of sticking to avoiding him. Forever. "Fine," she smiled tightly."I'll just wait-"

"Well well." A delighted voice sounded from behind them. "Where are you girls off to?" Max had loped apparently out of nowhere, two arms reaching for their waists. He grinned lazily in the sunlight; and Blair glanced between him and the basketball courts before deciding on the best escape.

"I'm just going to have a word with Max," she announced.

Serena paused for a moment, but the need to sort Chuck out was too great. She was already jogging in the direction of the courts as Max draped his arm around Blair, happily, watching the blonde's skirt as she ran.

Blair managed to repress a sigh.

"Chuck." Serena was on a mission the second she arrived in front of the boys. She didn't even let the sight of her boyfriend's muscles, gleaming with sweat in his vest - not to mention his rather adorably ruffled hair - distract her. Well, not for long. "We need to talk."

Nate glanced between the two of them, but Chuck had already spotted Blair in the distance. And he'd spotted who she was with. It seemed she was going to new levels to avoid him, if that was Max's arm around her.

"Later." His teeth were ground as he went to move past her. Serena tried to grab him, but they were distracted by Carter's arrival.

"Oh, Jesus."

Carter's plan of hitting the courts had been to stay out of Max's way - and now, seeing the same thing as they did, he swore. In fact, why were they all out here? This early? Carter had been sure the pretence of physical activity would keep him safe. Not that Carter cared about Max's feelings, but it was an effort.

"Chuck," Serena was insisting now as she looked to Nate for support. She was putting her foot down, and she didn't care if Carter was there or not. Chuck deserved it. With any luck, Blair was currently making him jealous with Max. "You need to tell me what the hell-"

"Gosh, what's going on here?"

The familiar voice carried even over to the courts.

Carter flinched, trying to retreat as Chuck tried to advance and Serena tried to hold him back. Nate wavered in the middle, pretty sure he should be doing...something. Saving his best friend? Or helping his girlfriend?

Tish had finished in the spa.

They watched her talking to Max and Blair. They watched as her gaze moved over to the courts and then as she started to make her way towards them, waving brightly. She appeared fully unaware of Blair's reluctance as she dragged her in her wake. And, as she arrived, still unaware of Serena's anger. "What are we all doing?"

Blair avoided looking at Chuck's hair, dark with sweat, or his even darker eyes. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. Her senses were over-heightened if she honestly thought she could smell his natural tang from so far away.

He took in her perfect spa glow with equal parts burning desire and dislike. Did she have to look so delicious all the time?

Meanwhile, Tish finally seemed to have picked up on an edge of awkwardness with Carter. Perhaps having he and Max so close after last night wasn't the best idea. The blonds were still confusing her, so she figured Chuck was a safe bet. "And how was your night?" she asked him with a vague smile. "I feel like I missed out on all the action."

Blair froze and Serena bristled in sheer disbelief. Nate paused, wary.

Chuck wasn't looking at anyone but Blair, his face still expressionless. "I'm sure you didn't miss much." He gazed at the brunette. "Did she?"

Blair glared back at him. "No."

"Come on," Max begged. "Where did everyone go last night?" He pouted. "I feel like I hardly saw any of you. Tell me there's gossip?"

Serena's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure Tish could tell you."

At long last, the red-head actually looked at the blonde. Well - how rude. Was the bitch trying to get her into trouble? Just what was her problem, exactly? Maybe she did want Carter for herself. Tish wrinkled her nose - they'd be entirely unsuited. "Oh, no," she sighed. "I had a quiet night. One too many, I'm afraid."

"Really?" Serena seethed. She could feel Blair sending her daggers - frantic warning signals - but she ignored them. Tish didn't get to do this to her best friend. And she wanted to see Chuck squirm now. She may not have done vengeance like Blair Waldorf, but injustice did make her upset.

"Really," Carter cut in. His tone was dry. "You know what Tish is like on Sambuca."

"You could blame it on the alcohol," Chuck agreed, still watching Blair.

She stiffened. "Clearly Ibizia's a dangerous place." Her voice was little more than a snap.

Serena, of course, was having none of that. "I think some people just have no self-control," the blonde corrected firmly. There was a beat of silence.

Blair tried very, very hard to prove just how much self-control she had by not letting her gaze slide to Chuck's - but it was no good when she could feel his eyes on her.

Carter and Tish smoothly avoided each other.

"Well," Tish trilled at last, taking Max's arm. "We'd best be off. Maxxie needs to take me shopping before we go. See you tonight." She was already disappearing.

Serena went to round on Chuck once they'd left, but Nate, ever loyal, had managed to get between them. "I'm starving," he attempted. "Let's eat."

His words fell on deaf ears.

"Chuck-"

"Actually, that sounds like a good idea." Carter was not in the mood for another Max/Tish avoidance - and he definitely didn't want to deal with Chuck's inevitable smarminess. And was it just him, or was Serena being extra annoying today? He'd never known her to be quite so judgemental. Or persistent about it. His sister was looking like the best choice of company at the moment. "Come on, I'm treating you."

The message was clear as he nodded for Blair to follow - no one else. And Blair did not look at Chuck - no, not once - as she slipped past him. She really did deserve some kind of award. (Especially given the current churning in her stomach).

Chuck watched them walk away, face tight.

"Ok," Serena fumed. Now she was really going to let him have it. "Chuck-"

"Serena," he snapped. And he stalked off.

"I'm telling you," Serena whined. "Nate, he went too far. You didn't see how crushed Blair was!"

Her boyfriend couldn't quite keep the look of doubt off his face. Blair, crushed? He knew the brunette as well as Serena did. Even if she was crushed, it was unlikely she'd let anyone see it. And he was sure she hadn't exactly seemed crushed at the basketball courts. He wasn't certain what it was - but it didn't seem like heartbreak?

"For her," Serena ammended with a sigh. The two of them had slipped back to their room and were currently making use of their freshly made bed - but even midday sex wasn't enough to stop her worrying about Blair. "I think she's really hurting."

Nate scratched his head. "Look, I don't understand why he did what he did either." He knew Chuck wasn't into Tish. "Maybe he got scared?"

Serena snorted. "Scared?"

"You know, of...feelings."

She considered this. Admittedly, that sounded like Chuck. "But why did he have to mess everything up?"

She'd been looking forward to double dates. She'd been looking forward to the four of them together - like it was always supposed to have been. And she wanted Blair to be happy.

Nate looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe we can fix it."

At that, Serena's eyes lit up - and it was worth it for that. "Matchmaking?" she asked hopefully.

"We need to get them to talk," Nate decided; Serena was bobbing her head. The two blonds exchanged grins.

"We need a plan."

* * *

Chuck had his own plan.

It involved stalking.

"So what did happen last night?" Carter sighed, leaning back against his chair. They were alone in the cafe, and he could finally relax. He was already getting a headache. "I hear it was messy."

Blair paused. "No." (Messy? How could he possibly have-)

Her brother raised an eyebrow up at her. "So Serena wasn't her usual drunk self?"

"Oh." Blair managed an eye roll. "Of course she was." She paused again, eyes narrowing as something occurred to her. Max may have missed it, but she'd been aware of her brother's reluctance to see Tish. "What did you do last night? Actually," she reflected grimly, "I don't want to know."

Carter's face twisted for a moment in a faint smirk. "Are you looking forward to going home?"

"Of course," Blair lied.

He tilted his head at her.

"Well...I'm looking forward to crushing the Columbia freshmen. And I have missed my wardrobe."

This earned her a proper smirk. Carter knew his sister. "Have you worked out where you're going to live?" he asked, slowly. He helped himself to some olives, but he was watching her.

Blair lifted a brow back. Returning to the penthouse. They both knew it would be for the first time in six years - she'd managed to avoid it every holiday since. "Not dorms," she retorted. She'd had more than enough of communal showers in boarding school. "S wants me to live with her."

"And Nate?" Carter enquired. "Chuck?"

Blair took a very determined gulp of her water. Oh, no. She could not deal with these questions at the moment. Not when the mere thought of Chuck was making her face heat. "I don't know."

"I'm sure Evelyn wants you all cosied up together," Carter drawled. "I think she mentioned something about buying a place."

"I'm sure she did," Blair snapped back; her brother pulled a face.

"So," he pressed as he regarded her. "What is going on with Chuck?"

Blair scowled at him. "Nothing."

"Then you're not in love?" Carter enquired, nose wrinkling at the mere thought. "I don't have to put Bass in his place?" The question was light, but his eyes were slanted.

Blair snorted. "What is this, the Godfather? What are you going to do, have words?" The idea of Carter actively making an effort at physical intimidation was laughable. Still, the idea that he might pay someone else to was not. And, judging from his expression now, it wouldn't be beyond him. She knew how capable he was of making people 'disappear' - violence wasn't needed with kind of dirt her brother could dig up. But then, that was people - not Chuck.

And this was Carter and Chuck they were talking about.

"Thank you for your concern, big brother," she said drily. "But trust me, Chuck is the last thing on my mind." And she was officially the world's biggest liar.

"Well," he sighed. Pointed. "Our penthouse is always there." He wasn't against the idea of living with his sister - having her home.

She cleared her throat, neatly getting to her feet. "Excuse me."

She needed to splash some water on her burning face before Carter looked at her properly. And, with any luck, the subject would be dropped by the time she got back.

She couldn't help the faint sigh of relief as she found the bathroom empty, pressing her back against the cool marble wall. Finally. She was safe. She paused in front of the mirror, checking her make up as she reached into her bag for her foundation. All she needed to do now was -

"Feeling flushed? I wonder why."

Her brush clattered to the floor as a pair of dark eyes met hers in the mirror. Chuck leaned against the wall like he owned the ladies bathroom, arms folded. She went to move past him - but he wasn't letting her go. Not this time.

"Oh, no."

He'd already blocked the door with his body. They moved for it at the same time, but he got there first, locking it - her fingers brushed his wrist and she yanked them back, scalded.

"You're following me into bathrooms now?" she managed to sneer. "How romantic."

"Well," Chuck replied through ground teeth, "Maybe I'm not in the mood to play Where's Waldorf all day. If you stopped running away, this wouldn't be a problem." He glowered at her. "Honestly, cowardice doesn't become you."

Blair folded her arms. "And you're not hiding from Carter in here?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

She made a point of ignoring him, reaching for her handbag. "If you don't leave, Bass, I'll scream."

"Oh," he agreed as he advanced on her. "You better believe you will. If it's anything like last night-"

"Last night," Blair said quickly, "Is obviously not going to happen again. In fact," she added, "You're not even going to talk about it again. Or think about it."

"Too late for that," Chuck smirked. His gaze was still intense, though, and he made no effort to move away from her.

"Have you ever heard of something called personal space?" she snarled, trying to dodge him once more.

"Yes," he sighed. It wasn't like he was that much bigger than her, but he suddenly seemed to be everywhere. She couldn't even slip past without touching him in some way. Which shouldn't have been a problem, but her traitorous body was refusing to obey her. Why on earth had her heart sped up? "But you know, when you were purring in my ear last-"

"What did I say about last night?"

"Right." Chuck gave her a dark look. "I forgot. I was sleeping with Tish."

Blair wrapped her arms around herself.

"You know," he pressed further - because fine, if that was what she wanted, then it was exactly what she was going to get. "Maybe I should sleep with her. Then at least we wouldn't have to lie."

She swallowed. "Maybe you should," she shot back anyway.

Chuck leaned in a little closer to her, hating that he could see the curve of her throat as she swallowed once more. Her back stayed up, head raised to his.

"Fine," he said, silkily.

"Fine," she snapped.

She forced out the painful image of Chuck kissing Tish - kissing anyone - like he'd kissed her last night. Forced herself not to think about his touch or the feel of his hands on her skin. Last night hadn't meant anything. Too much pent-up frustration from boarding school. It was best that they didn't repeat it again. Chuck could sleep with whoever he wanted.

(Chuck could slide off someone else's dress like he'd slid hers off; his hand could wrap around someone else's thigh and his teeth scrape the nape of someone else's neck; his lips could burn into someone else's and oh God there was bile rising in her throat now-)

"I'll see you later, Waldorf."

He seemed to have been waiting for her to snap, watching her intently - and when she refused to, he turned on his heel. He sauntered out of the room like his face wasn't immobile. And she watched him go like she wasn't aching to race after him and - hit him? Pinch him, kick him, drag him back into the room with her? - and the two of them went their separate ways like they were just fine.

* * *

Blair paused, hand stilling in her bag.

Serena glanced at her. "What's wrong?"

"I don't have my passport." She frowned. "That's impossible. I know I put it in my purse."

The blonde's expression was innocent as Blair emptied the bag, muttering furiously. That was all she needed. To be stuck in Ibizia. They were almost at the airport now - the jet was fuelled and ready to leave. The limo pulled to a stop, and Blair still couldn't find it.

"We need to turn the car around."

Serena's eyes widened. "We can't, B! It's ready to go! Tish and Max are waiting."

"I'll call Carter," Blair snapped. Carter had opted not to fly back with them, claiming he'd run into a friend. Blair suspected it had more to do with Max's sudden frown and the rumours that had reached him from one of the bouncers in the back rooms. He was looking with increasing suspicion at Tish, and Carter clearly didn't fancy the several hour flight home with the two of them.

"He's probably busy," Serena pressed. Damnit. Carter staying had not been part of the plan.

Blair ignored her as she climbed out of the car, reaching for her phone. Serena turned quickly to the other car - with any luck, Chuck should be realising he was passport-less about now too. Then all she and Nate had to do was suggest that the two of them -

"Looking for these?" Chuck enquired drily.

In his hands were the two passports.

Serena gaped - and a thoroughly crestfallen Nate hurried out next. "He went through my bag," he explained, miserable, to his girlfriend's look.

"S," Blair said sharply. "Nate. What are you up to?"

The blonds exchanged hasty glances. "Um, nothing."

Chuck was glaring at them too. "Nice try. Leave the scheming to the experts, will you?"

And he tossed Blair her passport and stalked off. Blair, matching glower, did the same.

They gazed after the retreating brunettes in dismay. So much for that idea. "We tried," Serena sighed.

"Plan B?" Nate suggested, half-hearted. His shoulders were slumped too.

All right, they didn't have a Plan B.

"Did you know," Serena attempted as they took off, "That there's a pool table on here? And a games room."

Blair lifted one eyebrow, magazine still very much in front of her face. "And?"

"Come on," the blonde protested. "Don't be a spoilsport."

"How old are you?" Blair groaned. "Five? I'm not being a spoilsport. There's nothing fun about a table covered in felt."

Serena folded her arms. "Well, there's nothing fun about watching you pretend to read when you're in a bad mood."

Her best friend rolled her eyes. "If you're that excited about it, go play with Nate."

"I'm sure Serena would be more than happy to play with you," Chuck was snapping in the cabin next door.

"I'm bored of watching you brood," Nate pointed out.

Chuck's expression darkened even further. "I do not brood." Tish took that moment to walk in. He glanced up, realising he couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. His face was grim as he regarded her. "But if you're that bored of my company, I'm sure I can find someone else's time to occupy." He got to his feet, ignoring Nate's protests, and moved into the other room with the red-head.

The blond let out a groan, sending a frantic text to Serena.

_SOS. Plan falling apart - he's with Tish._

Tish had also got wind of Max's suspicion. Perhaps she and Carter should have been a little more discrete. Although she was pretty sure doormen were paid to keep their mouths shut. Could no one get good service any more? Anyway, she was now avoiding Max and all too happy to flop down onto the sofa with Chuck. Chuck was easy. She knew people thought she was stupid - and probably she was, she didn't care much either way - but if there was one thing she knew, it was sex.

And Blair was sporting a post-sex glow if ever she'd seen one. Obviously the two of them weren't telling anyone (though the others really were dense not to have noticed). Tish wasn't fussed about that. But a fixated Chuck was the least effort to talk to, and she found it vaguely entertaining too.

Chuck, meanwhile, had no intention of making a move on Tish. He just wanted Blair to think that he was. He wanted to make her squirm, damnit.

He closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the cushion. He couldn't get her out of his head. He couldn't get last night out of his head. She'd come to him - not the other way round. All right, possibly their lips had met half way. And he'd been dragging her into the cab and up into the bedroom as much as she was. But the fact remained that she'd been the one crawling into his lap and whimpering his name. It had been her choice, and what was he supposed to do about that? He was Chuck Bass, and he didn't know what to do other than take.

And they'd been told enough times that they were meant to be, and she'd spent the last few weeks driving him crazy. He'd been all too happy to play with her - and obviously he'd been delighted to see how hot his childhood friend had turned out. This was Blair.

And maybe some part of him had fantasized about her all those years - but the fantasies were glimmers, a flash of brown eyes and pale hands clenched in her lap, the sting of tears mingling with her sweetness. She'd always been the one girl who had any place in his heart (if he even had a heart). When he'd thought of her, it had always been her headbands and prissy white dresses and her smirk as she sat opposite him, legs tucked neatly underneath her mid-scheme; her curls and the tilt of her head and the bows on her swimming costume that first pool party - her warm limbs next to his as she curled on the pillow during sleepovers - and her scowl as she stamped her little feet and pinched his arm.

The darker parts too, but that went without saying.

And when she'd come back, it had been every little trait of hers he'd missed, all her banter and bitchiness combined into something so delicious it was still making his head throb.

And last night -

Jesus.

"Chuck?" Serena was suddenly standing over him, looking between him and Tish with obvious disapproval. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Chuck made no effort to get up. "Talk away."

"Privately." The blonde folded her arms, and Chuck suppressed an eye roll. He still didn't move.

Serena glared at Tish; the red-head just blinked. Honestly, what was that American girl's problem? Did she want Chuck as well now? Surely she could see that was a lost cause? If Tish weren't quite so selfish, she might have bothered pitying her. Was it daddy issues?

"Chuck," Serena said in a low voice. "I need you to talk to Blair. Please. She's in the games room, and I can't get through to her. She won't come out."

Chuck's face betrayed nothing. "And?"

"And," Serena insisted, "I thought you cared about her?"

"Waldorf's a big girl now," Chuck drawled in response. "She can look after herself."

Serena looked at him in disbelief. "Fine." Her lips pressed together, final disappointment written all over her face. "That's great, Chuck."

She turned out.

Chuck focused on pouring himself some scotch, heavy silence in the room. Oh, for fuck's sake. Blair was refusing to come out of the room? She probably thought it was the best way of avoiding him. He was already getting to his feet as he slammed the scotch glass down.

Tish watched him go with mild interest. "Do try and keep it down, won't you?" she reflected. "Only the games room isn't soundproofed."

* * *

Serena ran into Nate just in time to see him locking the games room door. She stared. "What are you doing?"

He covered her mouth with his hand, cocking his head at the door. Chuck had just gone in. "Improvising."

Realisation dawned and her eyes lit up. They grinned at each other like two naughty school children. Then Nate was tugging at her hand, and they tumbled into the other room just as they heard the games room door handle twist, and a noise of anger.

But by then it was too late.

Chuck and Blair were locked in.

* * *

"What do you mean we're locked in?" Blair's voice echoed in sheer disbelief, almost shrill. She shoved past him - hard - and seized the handle for herself. Nothing. "Oh no no no. This is not happening." She turned on him, furious. "This is all your fault!"

"My fault?" Chuck's lip curled in outrage. "You were the one refusing to leave the room."

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about? I was waiting for Serena."

Realisation flashed between them. Serena. Chuck clenched his jaw, eyes closing. That was it. The second he got out of here, he was going to kill the blondes.

"They better be prepared for a long, painful demise," Blair said between gritted teeth. She sent him another glower. Chuck made a point of ignoring it as he leant back against the mini bar. He needed another scotch. Fast.

"Well," he snapped. "Looks like it's going to be a long flight."

Blair stayed where she was, stiff by the door. She refused to go anywhere near him. Because she couldn't. At the moment, she was so tense that she couldn't even bring herself to sit down. What had happened to that blissful sense of release last night? Her face was one of disgust as she folded her arms. "Great."

"And to think," Chuck sneered. "I could be in bed with Tish by now." He was still determined to get under her skin, and seeing her hide a flinch gave him a sick twist of pleasure.

"You chose to come here," she bit back. "If you're so desperate to sleep with her, why did you leave her?"

(Because why had he come to the games room?)

There was a hard silence.

"I have no idea," Chuck growled at last. Blair looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowing. But before she could say anything, he'd downed the glass in his hand and was reaching for another.

So she folded her arms again and climbed primly onto the bar stool. This was going to be the longest flight ever.

There was quiet as Chuck regarded her, so upright on the seat as she refused to even look at him. If she sat any straighter, he reflected, she'd break her perfect spine. And still he couldn't tear his eyes away from the pale delicate neck that held her head so fiercely erect.

He knocked back another mouthful of scotch. "Drink?" he asked sourly.

Her eyes slid to his lips before she could stop them. Tequila, lemon, salt and his lips on hers -

"No thank you."

Alcohol was definitely not a good idea. In fact, she was never drinking again.

His eyes darkened as he remembered their conversation earlier too - blaming it on the alcohol - and what she'd said about Ibiza being a dangerous place. Well, they weren't in Ibiza now.

She let out a deliberate sigh as she shifted on the stool. His eyes followed the lift of her skirt. Of course she saw, and of course she glared. If she hadn't gone quite so far last night, then him trying to catch a glimpse of her thigh would just be something else to tease him with. But he'd seen all of it last night. And still he didn't even blink.

"If you're bored," he mused, "I'm sure I can think of a way to pass the time. In fact, since we're both here..."

Her eyes met his, furious. "Don't even complete that thought."

He smirked. But his eyes were serious. Still hungry, and still intense. It made her shift again, pulling her own gaze away to fall on the pool table instead. She scowled. Damn Serena.

Chuck was glancing at the table too. He arched an eyebrow at her. "Well?" he enquired.

She looked between the pool table and the locked door, and rolled her eyes. "I don't even like pool." But she climbed with great reluctance off her stool - anything was better than sitting there under Chuck's gaze.

He leaned against the bar as his mouth turned up, faintly. "Then how about we make it interesting?" He was still watching her. She wrapped her arms around herself but kept her cool. Blair Waldorf did not back down from any challenge.

"Interesting?"

"One ball..." He leaned a little closer, eyes sliding along her figure. "One piece of clothing."

Her reaction was expected, right down to the furious jerk away from him. "In your dreams."

"Why?" he smiled. He was still just as close. "Scared?"

"No," she bit back, acidic. "Just not an idiot." Seriously, he thought she'd fall for that? (No way in a million years was she taking off anything in front of him. Her clothes were proving a flimsy enough barrier as it was).

He sighed. "You're telling me you never played strip poker at school?" She hadn't, which she suspected he knew damn well. Blair Waldorf did not strip. "It's not like I haven't seen it all before," he added aggravatingly. Blair opened her mouth in absolute fury, but he cut her off. "I'm not talking about last night." His eyes gleamed. "Mind out of the gutter, Waldorf." No, he was referring to the times when Blair Waldorf did strip. When she was finally relaxed enough to take off some of her layers - and that was the only exception - when it was the four of them. "You never minded before," he pointed out. "What's changed?" He moved even closer. "You want to act like last night never happened?" His gaze was alight now, waiting. "Prove it."

Blair's mouth almost dropped. For once, she didn't have a comeback. He had her, and he knew it. This was ridiculous. She shouldn't even be contemplating getting anything like naked in a room with him - not ever again - and now if she didn't, he'd know why.

(Because she couldn't trust her own body).

No. No, Blair Waldorf was in control. Always. She gave him a cool look, lifting her chin. "Fine." She'd do it just to prove to him that she could - but, more importantly, because she was confident she was wearing enough to make her point without actually revealing too much.

She would beat him.

* * *

"My my, Waldorf. You really can't play pool, can you?"

There was amusement in every inch of Chuck's voice as Blair stared in outrage at the ball that had dared miss the hole. So far all he'd had to take off was his watch - she'd failed to get a single shot since. (Not that she wanted him to take off his clothes. Obviously).

He proceeded to take his own shot, deliberately brushing past her to a spot that was far too close for comfort. Under the guise of getting a good angle for the ball, of course. Which - naturally - went straight into the hole. Seriously, since when had he been any good at pool?

She scowled as she slipped off her shoes. She was cursing her decision to only ever wear a few pieces of tasteful jewellery. If she wore half as many necklaces as Serena did, she wouldn't have this problem.

A smirking Chuck leaned casually on his own cue, now an annoying head taller than her without her heels. She did not want him towering over her. "You're up."

He watched her lean over the table, and she was so focused on taking aim (because the shiver when he'd brushed past her was not acceptable, and there was no way she was taking off her cardigan) that for once, he didn't even think she realised the picture she made. Or the fact that his mouth had gone dry as he took in the fierce, adorable crease of her brow and her lower lip trapped between her teeth. Her eyes lit up in sheer triumph as the ball rolled towards the hole - only to darken in wild fury as it struck the side of the table instead. He snorted, but there was still that twinge in his heart, even amused, at something so Blair.

She whirled round to face him. "You're cheating!"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Like I said. It's not my fault you're terrible at this."

Was it possible? Had he found the one game he could beat her at?

"I don't want to play any more," she declared as she folded her arms. "I'm bored."

Oh, no. She wasn't getting out that easily. "We're finishing the game." His gaze narrowed before she could refuse. "I didn't think 'surrender' was in your vocabulary, B."

He dragged out her pet name like an insult - but the mention of surrender was a bigger one. No, she didn't surrender.

"Fine," she snapped.

But she didn't play fair either. She edged closer, waiting till he'd lined up the shot before she suddenly slipped against his back, jolting him. The shot went wide. She smirked, delighted - she got to keep the cardigan now - and her breath was snatched away as his grip tightened on her wrist and he pulled her into him.

"Let go of me, Bass." She struggled to keep her voice even - he had her trapped against the table.

He did no such thing. "Now who's cheating?" he growled.

She blinked up at him, innocent. "I slipped."

He gazed down at her for a moment. (He was pissed; he'd wanted that cardigan off). Then his mouth curved. "All right." He suddenly turned her around, forcing her front against the table as he pressed her cue into her hand. "Then I'll make sure you don't slip again."

She squirmed - but he was pressed, hard, against her back, his arms surrounding her. And he wasn't letting go.

"Come on," he purred into the shell of her ear. Her back half arched against her will, into the heat of his body, her heart pounding at his hot breath against her neck. "I'll help you with your shot." His hand covered hers over the cue.

"Chuck-" it was a hiss in her throat, but she couldn't stop her eyes fluttering closed as his mouth pressed against her ear again. She swallowed, hard, and she felt him slot chin over her shoulder. His fingers slipped over her elbow, and she realised he was still positioning her for the shot.

Except her legs were so weak, all of a sudden, that she couldn't even really see the ball. She could just feel his hips pressed against hers and the hard curve of his jaw.

"Perfect."

His voice was a low murmur against her skin, and it took her a moment to realise the ball had actually gone into the hole.

His lips moved to her cheek, somewhere between teasing and nuzzling as his grip tightened. "So...what do you want me to take off?" It was almost a whisper. She couldn't rip her thoughts away from the hardness pressed into her lower back, a zipper just a hand stretch away -

She let out a strangled whimper - or was it a moan? - twisting in his grasp with every intention of breaking free. But instead she found herself face to face with him, still in his hold, their noses practically brushing as she gazed up at him. She was literally crushed against his chest, and she could feel his heart thump with hers under the fabric of his shirt.

Then she was kissing him.

(And every nerve in her body wad thrumming with sweet release at the taste of his lips).

And his hand was tangling in her hair as he was lifting her, hoisting her up onto the pool table - and her last coherent thought was that the felt had better be good for something.

* * *

Nate and Serena exchanged glances of trepidation as they waited on the other side of the door. They were going to have to open it.

"There are witnesses," Nate tried to reassure her. And himself. "Max and Tish know we're here."

"And we're landing in twenty minutes," Serena attempted.

They both swallowed. Nate's hand found hers. And then he turned the handle. He frowned. "That's weird." He pulled at it again, trying and failing to twist it open. Serena tried too, but -

"It's like it's stuck."

Shit, had they broken the door? That was it. They were dead. If they had to get maintenance to come over, there was no way Chuck or Blair would ever -

And then, just as abruptly, the door swung open. And Blair appeared, straightening her dress. Serena and Nate half held their breaths (were they going to find a body?) - but then Chuck appeared behind her. Alive and intact. He smoothed down his hair as the two of them fixed the blondes with shared looks of disdain.

"Real mature," Chuck drawled.

"Really," Blair added. "Congratulations. You've both reached new heights, even for you."

Serena and Nate looked at each other, and then back to their best friends.

"Ok, more importantly," Nate ignored the insult, "Have you two made up?"

"Chuck?" Serena pressed.

They received blank - haughty - looks. "What are you talking about?"

Nate rolled his eyes. "Is it safe to be in a room with either of you now?"

The swiftest of glances passed between them, but Chuck and Blair were already making their way to their seats without bothering to wait for the blondes.

"Let's just say we've reached an...agreement."

Luckily, neither Serena nor Nate managed to catch their matching smirks.


	8. Chapter 8

_'You need a push; I'll push you off_

_Open up the window and jump out into the blue'. _

* * *

The sun was only just beginning to lower in the sky and the shadows lengthen over the sprawling lawn of Cece Rhodes' summer house. A dinner table was set under a white awning, chairs filled with a small group of beautifully dressed people.

"So." Lily helped herself freshly squeezed lemonade, skin golden from her holiday. Her marriage to Klaus wasn't quite looking quite so golden – he was still in Switzerland. Her own return to the Hamptons had come a lot sooner than expected. "How was Ibiza?"

"Oh," Serena grinned a little. "You know. Very tame."

Nate grinned too, and Eric raised an eyebrow at her from across the table as Cece snorted in good-natured disbelief. No one saw the little look Chuck and Blair exchanged. Tame indeed_._

"Well," Cece mused. "Perhaps it's not the most appropriate topic for the dinner table." She smiled indulgently at her favourite granddaughter before turning to the girl opposite her. "Blair. It must be nice being home."

Chuck's arm was thrown over the back of her chair, and she was momentarily distracted as his fingers traced her bare arm. She gave him a sharp nudge. "It's great."

Lily smiled, warm. "And it's lovely having you back." She hadn't failed to notice Chuck's proximity. Or the fact that he'd resumed idly stroking her shoulder. Chuck and his antics had always amused her. She had to admit that he was her favourite out of all Serena's friends. And Blair was practically a daughter to her – she'd taken her and Carter in after the tragedy of their parents. "You must've missed her too, Charles."

"Mmm," Cece agreed drily. Blair's hand had slid onto Chuck's thigh now. What the older woman didn't notice was just how hard that hand was pinching him.

"It's been...torture." He managed to conceal his grimace of pain. Satisfied, she let go. And then stilled in fury as his hand resumed its place on her arm. Did he have any idea how _distracting_ he was being? Not to mention how unsubtle?

Chuck couldn't quite help himself. She wore a pure white and green summer dress, and her skin still glowed from the sun. Perhaps not just the sun. The evening was lazy and warm, and her presence at his side was particularly delicious.

Cece decided that her gin and tonic needed more gin. She'd have to fire that bar boy. She'd reached that wonderful stage in her life where she rather enjoyed stirring up trouble and knowing no one could do anything about it. Being old had to have some benefits.

"You and Blair have finally got together, then?" she pressed now. Nothing made young people more awkward than relationship talk. "How sweet." Other than baby stories, of course. "I still remember the two of you as little toddlers pulling each other's hair."

And not that much had changed, she reflected with some wryness as Chuck's fingers brushed Blair's dark locks where they rested on her shoulder.

Chuck caught her hand in his other one before she could pinch him again, flattening it on her thigh. "Sadly not." He ached to move just a little higher, but suspected she'd punish him later for doing so. And not the kind of punishment he liked. "Blair's far too...busy to waste her time on boyfriends."

Cece chuckled. "You should be having fun, dear. When I was your age-"

"Yes, mother," Lily stopped her with a slight sigh. "You had every man in Montecito after you."

Cece gave her a little smile back as she took another sip of her drink. "Well, at least _I_ wasn't after every man in Montecito."

Lily rolled her eyes silently.

Serena was keen to change the subject before her mother and grandmother got the chance to start on real sniping.

"Seriously though, B. You _can't_ be too busy once we start Columbia." She glanced at Nate. "We want to double date!" She still wasn't entirely sure what was going on with Chuck and Blair. She'd hoped their 'agreement' would be that they were going out officially. It seemed she'd been a little to optimistic.

"Well," Blair reflected with a tilt of her head, "I'm sure I won't be too busy to look at my options. And college _will_ have a wider selection than boarding school..."

She felt Chuck's grip tighten on her hand.

Cece chuckled. "Ivy League's a good place to start."

"Really?" Chuck drawled. "Desperate freshmen that have probably been so busy studying to get in they haven't seen a girl in months?" He wasn't looking at Blair, but his fingers shifted over hers, and this time he did move higher. High enough to brush her dress where it dipped between her legs. "I wouldn't get your hopes up."

He wasn't prepared for quite how fast the nails of her other hand bit into his knuckles. Though she'd failed to realise that it now just looked like she was cradling his hand in her lap.

"I don't know." Cece was quite enjoying poking fun. "All those varsity players..." She smiled faintly, a droll gleam in her eye. She did love making them squirm. Particularly Chuck, who she knew Lily had a soft spot for.

"Blair doesn't like athletes," Chuck cut back. He ignored the death grip Blair now had him in. "They're too focused on their balls."

At that, Blair's chair scraped against the patio floor.

"Chuck." Her teeth were gritted through her sweet smile. "A word." Her hand tightened on his collar to drag him to his feet. "Sorry, Cece."

Lily flashed him an almost sympathetic look before Blair yanked him away.

Nate and Serena exchanged glances.

"So," Eric spoke into the silence. "I like athletes."

* * *

Blair waited till they were under the shadow of a large spreading cedar tree before wheeling on Chuck. "What the hell are you playing at, Bass?"

"What?" He arched an eyebrow back at her.

"Our deal," Blair seethed, "Quite clearly stated that this would be no strings attached, and that no one would find out." She was still trying to convince herself that sex this amazing with someone she wanted as much as Chuck – with Chuck at all - _could _be meaningless. And now it just felt like he was undoing all her efforts. Plus, if the secret got out then she'd actually have to face up to it. "Acting like a jealous boyfriend? Pawing me in front of everyone? Clearly _not _in the agreement!"

Chuck wanted to point out that she'd never had a problem with him _pawing _her before, but the heat of her anger was turning him on a little too much. Did she have any idea how adorable that glower was?

"Look," he sighed. "Evelyn's bound to ask Cece how the dinner went – I can't act _indifferent _to you, Waldorf."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "There's a very big difference between acting indifferent and trying to put your hand up my dress."

And at that, he smirked. "My hand stayed above material the whole time. But I like your thinking..." He caught her waist as he spoke, tugging her easily to him as he gazed down at her. He wanted to get under that material now. "I think we should rectify that."

Her hands somehow got caught against his chest.

"I mean it," she insisted. "If you pull anything like that again, the deal's over." Her voice wavered a little, though, as he drew even closer and his fingers caressed her sides.

"Really?" he murmured. She could feel the heat of his breath against her neck.

She opened her mouth to say _really_, but it somehow got lost as his lips captured hers.

She moaned a little as she found herself pressed against the trunk of the tree, fingers bunching on the lapels of his pale green jacket. Her voice was breathless in his mouth. "If you get grass stains on my dress, Bass-"

He sighed and switched positions (even though he didn't want grass stains on his suit either), and then her body crashed into his, hot, as she leaned up to kiss him, fingers burying in his hair. And as his hands squeezed her tight waist and he deepened the kiss, he found that he no longer gave a damn about grass stains.

* * *

Serena and Nate's witty anecdote – which had both Cece and Lily in stitches - was cut short by the arrival of an uninvited guest.

Damien Dalgaard had approached the table.

Cece made no attempt to disguise her disapproval as she appraised the boy. You didn't _interrupt _a dinner.

"Can I help you?"

Damien cleared this throat. "I'm sorry, your maid let me in."

(Wonderful, Cece thought. Another member of staff she'd have to fire. She'd told the useless girl enough times that when her family were over, all unwanted guests were to be sent away).

"I just needed to speak to Blair."

Damien had been trying to get in touch with her ever since she'd got back from Ibiza. But she kept disappearing, and he had no idea where. In fact, where the hell was she now? It took him a moment to realise that there were _two _empty seats. Side by side. He didn't even need to check to see who else was missing; it took him a moment to control his fury.

"What about, exactly?" Cece sounded quite cool. "We're in the middle of a meal."

"Well, Blair's clearly not." He tried to keep his tone polite and the sneer at bay.

"I'm clearly not what?"

He spun round. Blair had re-emerged, eyebrows raised. Chuck Bass was right behind her. His hand was on her lower back and he looked too smug for Damien to bear.

"Is there a problem?" he enquired now. His golden eyes flickered over the other guy, even.

Damien tore his own eyes away from those fingers splayed against the small of Blair's back; he managed not to grind his teeth. Chuck was helping her into her seat now.

So just Damien was left standing.

"I wanted to say goodbye." He sighed. "I'm catching a flight to Prague tonight." His father would be waiting for him there; he liked to check up on the boy every so often. Make sure he was behaving. Damien resented the excuse for more of his father's criticism at the best of times – but now, he loathed it ten times more. The Hamptons trip had proved a complete waste.

Blair was aware of how bad Damien's father was.

She paused for a moment. And perhaps because of that, or perhaps because she was still a little caught up in the post-orgasmic haze of Chuck taking her against a tree, she was nice for once. "Well, have a safe flight."

Damien was too busy trying not to glare at Chuck to notice. His arm was back around Blair's chair.

"Right. See you."

He managed not to entirely storm off as he heard them go back to their meal behind him. He_ loathed _Chuck Bass.

* * *

It was their last day in the Hamptons.

Serena was hot and bored of lounging by the pool. She wanted to go for a dip. Blair, however, was basking in Chuck's eyes on her as she rubbed in her sun tan lotion. She arched her back on the lounger as she ran her hands over her smooth legs – and she quite deliberately didn't look at him once.

If they went swimming, then her perfect hair would be destroyed. She was enjoying sweeping it off the nape of her neck to get to him. Sopping wet, it wouldn't have quite the same effect.

"You already put sun block on like half an hour ago," Serena grumbled. "How sensitive do you think your skin is?"

Blair managed not to snap back that at the moment her skin was sensitive enough to tingle just at the heat of Chuck's gaze.

She watched as he stood now, obviously on purpose, so that she could see his bare chest in the sun. He just gave her a little smirk before he turned and jumped smoothly into the pool.

Blair glanced at the water droplets clinging to his hair and rubbed lotion into the shoulder she'd just finished, spine curving that little bit more.

She hardly noticed when Nate joined him in the water.

"Come on." Serena was trying to drag her off the lounger. "We have to get in now!"

Blair pulled a face. "We do not."

But she didn't want to be left to sit on the side by herself. Serena was already springing towards the water, her splash resounding against the pool tiles.

Blair rolled her eyes. Her approach was far more restrained. She slipped down and dangled her feet in first. The water was deliciously cool against her calves. Chuck watched the water reflect off her skin in silence. She arched an eyebrow over at him; he just smirked.

And then that lithe body had slid into the smooth surface of the water, and her breath caught for a moment at its cold depth.

A pair of hot hands slid round her bare waist under the water – Chuck had swum up without her noticing. Of course. He could smell the coconut of her lotion on her smooth skin as she wriggled in his grasp; and then she'd dunked him, smirking, and kicked away.

He caught her ankle.

Serena and Nate both turned at her cry. But all they saw was Chuck, grinning, as he let her go.

"We should play water polo!"

Blair barely managed to suppress a groan. Of all the messy, clumsy sports -

"Shotgun Waldorf." His head was cocked down at her, infuriating, and she found herself wishing that lazy gesture didn't send quite such a shiver down her spine.

Serena was already clambering eagerly onto Nate's shoulders, long brown legs wrapping round him. Really, Blair decided, they had the most unfair height advantage. She remembered complaining about the same thing when they'd used to play - and no one had ever listened then either. She also remembered telling them playing water polo with four people was ridiculous. But since their games usually dissolved into splashing matches and wild giggling anyway, there was probably no point.

She glanced over at Chuck. Because when she'd climbed onto his shoulders aged ten, she'd thought nothing of it. Other than gratitude that his grip on her legs had been so tight that she wasn't quite so scared of falling off.

She had a feeling his hands on her calves now wouldn't produce quite the same effect.

"No funny business," she muttered as she approached him in the water. She could already see the gleam in his eye as he turned his back, ready for her to climb on.

"I'm can't promise that," he responded softly as her legs looped over him. He heard the hitch in her breathing as he stood up, hoisting her out of the water, and then he could feel the heat of her thighs on his bare shoulders. His hands slid over her ankles to grasp her legs.

This was hardly the most sexual thing they'd done over the past week, but somehow the warm weight of her and her knees pressed against his neck was doing funny things to his stomach. He ran his hands up her legs to distract himself. And then was a wrenching pain in his scalp as she seized a fistful of his hair.

Her hiss was right next his ear. "I said no _funny business_!"

He smirked through his grimace of pain. "And I said I wasn't making any promises."

He realised that this game would be even more pointless than usual. There was no way he'd be able to focus on catching a damn ball when her arms were wrapped around his neck and the curve of her stomach against the back of his head.

* * *

As predicted, they managed to keep score for all of fifteen minutes before the game became more about trying to knock the girls off. Blair had used to be the best at that part - she'd always been small enough not to overbalance, and she had a far tighter grip than Serena. Nate tended to get all caught up in the length of Serena's legs.

But Chuck's thumbs hooked around the back of her knees as her thighs squeezed him had proved a bit too much for her concentration. It was only Serena's giggling fit that let them win.

Blair had hastily climbed down from Chuck and told them she was going to get a drink.

She heard his soft pad of footsteps behind her as she moved across the kitchen and opened a cabinet. He watched that bare skin taughten against her spine as she reached up, the narrow curve of her bare waist. They were alone in the room now; alone where the shade was a sharp relief to the glare of the sun outside. And suddenly he was behind her, reaching for a glass too.

She turned and found herself caught against the counter.

His hair was still dripping, his chest cool against hers. The air conditioning was bringing goosebumps to her skin. He smirked, slowly, down at her as he tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. His arm wrapped around her, pressing into the small of her back as he kissed her and pinned her against the cabinet. It was only a light kiss, lips brushing, burning as their foreheads touched. But his hands were sliding down to cup her ass, slipping up the fabric of her bikini briefs and grazing the top of those thighs that had just been wrapped around him. She bit down on his lower lip; he groaned, faintly, into her as he went to lift her onto the counter.

He buried his mouth in her collar bone and his tongue found that drop of water between her breasts. Her head slipped backwards, wet hair sliding against her back as she gripped his shoulders for support.

Then her eyes shot open as they heard a door bang in the next room.

She pushed him away and jumped down from the counter just in time; he'd barely adjusted his trunks before Evelyn and Carter walked in.

The very last people that either of them wanted to see.

Evelyn's face was quite unreadable as she took in Blair's obviously swollen lips and the way they sprang apart. Carter's eyes had narrowed.

Evelyn had just been telling him all about the apartment she'd bought for Chuck. There were enough bedrooms for plenty more. Nate had already made it clear he wanted to live with his best friend; and where Nate went, Serena must surely follow.

Carter had tuned all that out as he'd been expecting it. (He'd been more interested in finding out how much the apartment was worth). And even then, he still wasn't convinced about the idea of his little sister shacking up with Chuck. It sounded like asking for trouble to him.

He'd only started listening when Evelyn had mentioned she'd seen Blair up one night, looking like she'd see a ghost. Did Carter really think it was a good idea for her to be staying in the Waldorf penthouse alone, she'd wanted to know, especially since it wasn't like he'd be there every night?

Carter had frowned. It was the first he'd heard of nightmares recently. He knew that just after their parents...but Blair had never mentioned it to him since. And he was sure she hadn't had any whenever he'd been around.

But now, sensing the vibe between Chuck and Blair and whatever it was he'd just been about to walk in on -

Well, all he was focused on now was glaring at Chuck. What, exactly, was Bass doing to his sister? Carter had seen too much of what Chuck did to other girls to be at ease with the obvious lust in his eyes now. Not when it was aimed at his baby sister. And the more he thought about it, the more he decided that Chuck knowing Blair from so young was only a bad thing. It gave him a hold over her, and it made Blair think she could trust him. It wasn't that Carter didn't believe a part of Chuck did genuinely care for Blair - it was just that Chuck wasn't a kid anymore.

And maybe putting all this pressure on Blair - going on and on about the Basses and Waldorfs all the time - wasn't great for her. He didn't want her to feel like she _had _to be with the guy. In fact, it was probably best that he put a stop to this before they both got in over their heads.

"What were you two talking about?" Blair asked sweetly. She was focused on pouring herself a drink now. Her eyes flickered, briefly, to Evelyn and then she wished she hadn't looked at all. There was a definite glint in the woman's eyes. Chuck had spotted it too.

Evelyn's smile was langourous. "I was just telling Carter about Chuck's new penthouse." She turned on Blair as her lips curved. "And how nice it would be if his friends were living with him."

Why did the way she said _friends_ fill Chuck with quite so much revulsion?

"And I was just saying that you probably can't wait to move back into your own home." Carter addressed his sister pointedly. "Waldorfs back together."

Blair managed a smile. "Right."

"Speaking of," Carter added, "We need to pack." He had no intention of leaving Chuck and Blair alone in a room together and letting Chuck carry on with whatever he'd been about to do. "And you look freezing." She was wearing practically next to nothing, for Christ's sake. "Don't you think you should put some clothes on?"

His sister rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Carter. What would I do without your advice?" She turned and walked out of the room. Carter followed so that Chuck couldn't watch her go. He needed to hit this on the head, he resolved. Fast.

Evelyn spared Chuck an idle glance. But there was still that gleam in her eye, dark in the dim light of the kitchen. "Is this sorted now?"

He glared at her coldly. He knew damn well what she meant. "No," he snapped.

"No? What exactly were you doing in Ibiza, then?"

"I'm working on it," he snarled back.

His mother's face was an icy mask. "Well, work harder." She'd swept out before he could even retort. He was tempted to throw the glass Blair had just been drinking from at her head.

* * *

Chuck had prepared himself for a car ride back to the city alone. So he came to a stop, next morning, when he discovered someone sitting on the bonnet of his limo. Someone in a deep orange pencil skirt and tight cream top, brown hair pulled into a ponytail and bare legs crossed over the sleek black metal.

She smirked as she saw him.

His eyes moved, slowly, over her figure; and he couldn't stop his own smirk from forming. "Well. This is a surprise."

"James had to leave suddenly," she purred. He held out his hand; she slid hers into it and jumped down. "So we don't have a driver any more. I thought we could share yours." She looked up at him from between her lashes, and she was close enough that he could smell her shampoo and the urge to pull her little body to him was overwhelming.

But he registered the 'we'.

"As in you and..."

"Morning, Bass." Carter had already moved between them and was ushering his sister into the limo, eyebrow arched as he glanced at his friend. Chuck gave a flat little smile and managed to keep his face expressionless.

"Great."

* * *

Carter had actually spent his last night in the Hamptons with Tish. It was a mistake he'd told himself he wouldn't do again, but since she was jetting back to England the next morning...

The problem was that he'd been up all night and was now fairly exhausted. For someone who looked so lazy all the time, Tish had a hell of a lot of stamina. He personally thought she just saved all her energy for sex. He wasn't complaining. Well, he was when his head was killing him like it was now. He tugged down his sunlasses and leaned back against the leather seats. At least he had a couple of hours before they got back to the city.

Blair quirked a perfect brow over at Chuck as Carter's head moved back. Chuck felt his mouth dry a little. But he glanced at Carter again - how did they know he was actually alseep?

Chuck watched as she rose from the seat she was sharing with Carter to adjust the air conditioning. He could see the full curve of that tiny waist now, and he'd never wanted to wrap his arms around it more. Something about the flick of her ponytail was doing that thing to his stomach again.

Her gaze snuck briefly to Carter. Then with a little wicked grin, brown eyes alight, she dropped onto Chuck's lap.

"Oops," she murmured into his ear. "I seem to have slipped." Her fingers brushed his shoulders and he had her across his legs now, one hand sliding up her back to tangle in her ponytail.

Then Carter muttered something in his sleep and they both paused, his hand stilling in its path. Carter didn't wake up. They were both watching him as Chuck reached down again, slowly, and slid up her skirt. Her legs were deliciously smooth as he crept higher, brushing her panties. She inched a little closer to him, and her head was against his shoulder. Her eyes had closed with pleasure; he kept one on Carter. Getting caught with his hand up her skirt would definitely earn him a punch. At the very least. But as his fingers pushed aside the fabric and he felt her wetness, thoughts of Carter vanished. Her soft ponytail brushed his cheek as her breath caught, and he could see the curl of her eyelashes as she shifted pleasurably in his lap.

She had to stifle her moans in his shirt when she came.

He kissed her hot neck at the nape where her hair was gathered; she breathed his name and something in his stomach - or his chest - jumped. Who the fuck was he kidding with no strings attached? This was _Blair._

She smiled at him as she climbed off his lap. And by the time Carter woke up, she was seating neatly at his side with her legs pressed together and her ponytail perfect.


	9. Chapter 9

_'The day after you stole my heart, everything I touched told me it would be better shared with you'._

* * *

Carter had pulled Blair out of the limo and shut the door before Chuck could so much as attempt to follow them out. And now the two of them were climbing the elevator to the Waldorf penthouse.

Home.

Blair drew a deep breath as the doors slid open. Six years she'd managed not to set foot in this place. Her grip was tight round her purse as she moved out first.

The amber marble columns were exactly the same, the glossy tiles beneath her feet. All the furtniture in exactly same the same place and the same faint smell of expensive floor wax. But all of it seemed somehow smaller since she'd last been here. The piano where Eleanor had used to insist she took her lessons, where Harold would occassionally belt out a tune when Eleanor was in a good mood - she remembered it as larger. More imposing. She remembered her hands shaking with concentation as she sat on the high stool, legs dangling as she strove to play as well as her daddy.

There were no hydragenas in any of the china vases. Carter wasn't home enough to bother with flowers, and they looked strangely bare on their elegant tables.

"Dorota doesn't work here any more?" Blair murmured as her gaze swept the room. She avoided the framed family portrait on the mantelpiece. (She rememered the photograph; remembered sitting very still with her hands on her lap while the cream collar of the dress Eleanor had picked out dug into her neck).

Carter shrugged. He'd already set down their bags. "Last I heard, she married a doorman. I think she's got kids of her own now."

Blair tried to ignore how weird that thought was. What had she expected, after all? The maid to hang around an empty penthouse? Carter had used to drive the poor woman crazy, and as a result she'd been far easier for Blair to manipulate. But she still remembered the maid tucking them both in at night, Carter slouched on the end of her bed as she told them both Polish fairytales he pretended to be too cool for.

"Why?" Carter drawled now. "Do you need a nanny?" He arched a brow at her and she rolled her eyes back.

"Why would I need a nanny when I've got you?" Her smile was sweet. She paused as she crossed the room, reaching the chaise longue where Eleanor had always sat to receive guests. Blair had sat in the same place to watch the guests at her parents' wake, shifting on the silk cushions and wishing she could cry. The blown-up, smiling photos of her mother and father and the hundred people she barely knew in black had just left her cold. She hadn't cried till she'd started hanging up her own black dress and realised Eleanor wouldn't be there to tell her off for its creases. She looked back at her brother now. "You haven't redecorated in six years? Lily must have a fit everytime she comes over."

Carter pulled a wry face. "She knows better than to interfere with Eleanor Waldorf's taste." It came out a little more bitter than he'd intended - like changing anything in their home would be seen by everyone as an insult to Eleanor's memory.

"Mother was never behind the times," Blair said, softly.

They were both silent for a moment as they exchanged a glance. They rarely spoke about their parents. Even to each other. One of Blair's therapists had told her once that talking about their memories was important; that they needed to cherish all the good moments they'd had with Eleanor and Harold.

The problem was that as soon as Blair started_ trying_ to think about the good memories, she'd remember another piece of her mother's criticism or another one of her parents' muted, teeth-grinding arguments where Eleanor snapped and Harold failed to console. You were never supposed to think ill of the dead, but it wasn't guilt. It was the knowledge that she wanted even those moments back.

Carter had the tendency to turn any reference about their parents into a dark and probably inappropriate joke, which Blair preferred - it was the only way either of them could usually approach the topic.

She exhaled. She could walk through every room of this penthouse and lose herself in pointless memories - what would it achieve?

"I'm going to unpack," she announced. "At least now I've got proper wardrobe space again."

Carter's mouth twisted faintly; she picked up her bag, heading off with a smirk in his direction. The smirk faded a little as she reached the stairs. She'd have to face her room sooner or later. And if Carter had managed to live in the building all this time, then so could she. She ignored the empty vases.

She was home now.

* * *

Chuck had been planning on texting Blair to ask if he could sneak round later - or, better yet, if she could sneak round to his, since Evelyn wouldn't be back from the Hamptons till tomorrow and he had the place to himself.

But he got home to discover that he didn't have the place to himself.

The cleaning staff were scurrying around the penthouse, the study door ominously open and studiously avoided. Chuck could hear the curt, quiet voice snapping into the phone.

Bart was back.

He knew better than to interupt his father, but he approached the study anyway as he heard the phone call wrap up. Why was Bart back so soon? Before he could glance in to see Bart himself emerged from the room. His blue eyes were cool as he regarded the boy, his suit crisp as ever.

"Chuck." He only called him _Chuck_ because Evelyn called him Charles - Chuck was sure of it. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Not out of any endearment, of course; it was just another way for the two of them to stake their barely controlled hatred for each other.

"Father." Chuck's eyes flickered over him. It had been a long time since he'd acted with anything but indifference towards the man - he was only following the precedent that Bart had set. "How was Singapore?"

"Thailand," Bart corrected crisply. He didn't answer the question. "I understand your mother bought you an apartment."

Chuck's lip curled. "A three million dollar penthouse, actually." He sneered only because he knew how much Bart hated to waste money. Almost as much as Evelyn enjoyed it. Conversations with his father always, inevitably ended up with Chuck being as deliberately rude as possible - even though he knew it accomplished nothing. There was just something about the man's impassive face that ignited the need to provoke. He didn't realise how exactly like his mother he looked even now, dark eyes slanted and mouth twisted as he regarded the man.

Bart's brow tightened, imperceptible. "I'm aware of how much it cost. Thank you. We have a meeting with the owners of that hotel on fifth tomorrow," he went on. "I don't suppose you bothered looking at the specs I emailed while you were partying in Ibiza?"

"I meant to thank you for the airport reading," Chuck drawled.

Bart did not look amused. "Vaccation's over, Chuck. And you're not in high school any more. If you really want to work at Bass Industries you'd better start being serious."

Chuck just rolled his eyes.

But he was aware that Bart had showed no inclination of including him in this meeting before. His father rarely bothered involving anyone in business decisions, let alone the future inheritor of his company. Unless, of course -

"Did another one of mother's affairs get out?" Chuck enquired. "Is that why I need to start being so serious? I assume we're going for a united family front again."

He ignored the savage twist of frustration as Bart didn't even flinch. As expected, his face was inscrutable as ever. "Watch your tone."

"Why?" Chuck sighed idly, glancing round the room. "Are you being followed by a reporter?"

His father's eyes narrowed. "Just make sure you're at that meeting." He turned back into the study and the door snapped shut behind him.

Chuck scoffed.

But he knew things were only going to get worse tomorrow when Evelyn got back.

* * *

Blair had kept herself occupied most of the day unpacking and sorting her clothes from boarding school. She was in definite need of a shopping trip before she started at Columbia - she still had awful little girl dresses from when she was _twelve_ hanging in her closet.

Carter, for once, wasn't out. (She had a strong suspicion he was keeping an eye on her.) They'd ordered in from Caviatellis and spent the evening watching movies; Carter had even, grudgingly, let her put on Tiffany's. Though he'd spent most of it rolling his eyes and making inappropriate comments. Pretty much the same as around ten years ago, when Blair's Hepburn obsession had first started.

Still, they hadn't done anything like that, together, in about as long.

But it was gone midnight now and Blair was alone in her room. Even with the lights on, the deep blue walls that she'd once loved felt oddly dark and oppressive. She'd had a long bath, washed her hair, moisturised and changed into a set of skimpy silk pyjamas - anything to put off going to bed. She was obviously far too used to boarding school's ridiculous single beds, because at the moment her own four poster looked so big she thought it might engulf her.

She told herself not to be so stupid.

Actually, she'd forgotten to floss. She should really do that before she went to sleep. She was just heading back into the bathroom when her phone went.

_In bed yet, Waldorf?_

She couldn't stop the faintest of grins as she texted back, even as she reflected that the perve was no doubt imagining her in bed right now.

_Wouldn't you like to know?_

The answer came almost immediately.

_Yes. _And then another beep. _But only if you tell me what you're wearing._

Her mouth curved as she moved into the bedroom, flossing now the last thing on her mind. _Who says I'm wearing anything?_

He was on the line within a few seconds.

"I'm coming round."

She dropped onto her bed, and her previous fear was forgotten at the low drawl of his voice. "Maybe I'm tired, Bass," she purred back. "After that long car ride this morning."

"Then I can promise you'll be exhausted come tomorrow." It was a growl against her ear. She smirked and opened her mouth to answer - and then her door opened, and Carter stuck his head round.

"Who are you talking to?" He was very aware of the late hour. (But he also knew this was the first time she'd slept in this room since she'd used to wake up every night sobbing, and what Evelyn had said was playing on his mind).

His sister looked quite at ease now, however, stretched back on the bed with her cell phone as she rolled her eyes at him. "Serena."

Chuck was muttering down the line to her. "Carter's there? Why the hell isn't he out?"

Carter arched a brow. "Is she having some kind of crisis that needs a midnight phone call?" he enquired.

Blair raised an eyebrow right back. "Would I tell you if she was?"

That made his mouth twitch, just a little. "See you in the morning, sis."

"Don't let the door hit you on your way out," she smiled sweetly. They exchanged another eye roll - she did look fine, Carter decided - before he left.

"Sorry," she murmured into the phone. "Looks like a house call is out of the question."

"Remind me why I'm friends with your brother?" he griped.

She smiled softly. "Don't worry. If you behave," her tone was light, "I'll make sure he's out tomorrow."

She could feel his mouth curve down the phone at the promise. "Well, in the meantime..." His voice tilted. "Care to tell me exactly what you're not wearing?"

She couldn't stop the faint grin as she dropped back down onto the comforter, cell still curled against her ear.

* * *

The phone was still gripped in her hand by the time she woke up, sweating, a couple of hours later. She fumbled blindly for the bedside lamp. When it finally came on, it threw shadows against the walls that were now almost back in the darkness. Her cheeks were wet.

This had been exactly where she was seven years ago, when her sleep had been disturbed by the elevator downstairs and the urgent murmur of voices. She remembered going very still under the comforter as she was suddenly convinced something was wrong. She hadn't been able to shake the odd prickle of dread as she'd forced herself out of bed, padding across the floor to creep along the dark landing. She'd peered out of the shadows, and she'd felt suddenly sick as she saw the heads downstairs, the strangers in uniform. There was red and blue siren reflected against the window outside. Except for the staff, she'd been alone in the penthouse because Carter was staying at a friend's and her parents had been out -

But it had been three o'clock in the morning and her parents were supposed to have been back hours ago.

The clock on her bedside table, now, was the same clock and it told her the same time. She was shaking as she dragged the comforter closer. The first few nights after that one, seven years ago, she hadn't been able to sleep because of the unease that overwhelmed her everytime the lights went out and she was lying in her bed again. Carter had ended up having to sleep in her room.

She'd thought that when she moved into the van der Woodsens the fear would stop. She'd told everyone it had. A different bed, a different room. But then the nightmares had started instead. Not the same nightmare every time, but the same feeling. And she'd never been able to shake that tightness in her throat, that discomfort every time it was her alone in the dark.

And now that she was back in her old room the nightmare felt ten times more suffocating.

She breathed out a few times, supressing the urge to get out of bed. The thought of moving onto the darkened landing filled her with dread anyway. The thought of her bare feet on the floor -

It was a moment before she even realised she was still holding her cell. Chuck's name still glowed dimly on the screen; just a few hours ago, when her only thoughts had been pleasure at the delight in his low murmur. And she was suddenly desperate to hear his voice in her ear again, to drive out everything else. She suddenly wished she'd told him to come over anyway. For one wild second she even considered calling him.

Then she froze as she realised just how pathetic she was being. Chuck couldn't see her like this. She wanted to be the Blair who'd whispered back to him without hesitation, teasing him and playing with him and driving him crazy. The girl he _wanted_ enough to come over the phone. She needed it, she realised. She needed to be that person. With Chuck she got to be that person all the time - she got to be Blair Waldorf, and when she was with him being Blair Waldorf meant something. It meant what she wanted it to.

She couldn't bear the thought of that ever changing. She couldn't _let _it.

So she pushed the phone away and closed her eyes again, preparing herself for the long and agonising wait till morning light finally flooded the room again.

* * *

"The opera?"

Chuck heard Evelyn's derisive voice as he came out of the lift.

He found himself wishing he could go back down again. Or better yet, go back to Blair's warm body on top of his in his limo and her hot mouth pressed against his neck. He'd picked her up after her shopping trip with Serena, and had been quite delighted to discover how just much successful purchases got her blood going. He could still feel the imprint of her nails in his back. He _definitely_ had to take her shopping himself.

His mother's cruel laugh sounded from across the room. "Why on earth would I want to go to the opera, Bartholomew?" The name was a malicious sneer, as ever.

"Jesse McKinley wants to do a piece for the Times." Bart sounded cold and quite flat. "And someone needs to sort out the mess you made."

"Oh yes," Evelyn drawled. "Jesse. He wrote that lovely interview about how close-knit the Basses were last year." She paused silkily. "I think he finished it in my bedroom."

Bart ignored her. "If I have to spend another penny covering up for you, Evelyn, then I'll cut you off."

Evelyn just laughed. "Except that I'm the one our accountant's sleeping with. Did you forget?" Then, as she noticed Chuck, "Darling." Her smile coiled. "Have you heard? Your father wants our happy family to go and see Carmen next week. Do you think he's trying to tell me something?" Her lazy glance at her husband oozed scorn. "I'd be scared, but I think murder requires some level of passion. Which we all know he doesn't have." Evelyn always made the biggest show of being all over her son - endearments and all - when Bart was around. Purely to get at him.

"I have plans," Chuck answered shortly. He was already moving past them; he just wanted to get to his room and shower before he met up with Nate and Serena at One Oak. Well. Nate, Serena, and a certain brunette. With any luck the blondes would eventually get too drunk and into making out to notice what was going on with their friends.

"I expect you to be there." Bart's tone was hard.

Chuck just gave him a cool look in return, and it was an exact mirror of his mother's.

"Sweetheart, be nice to your father," Evelyn cut in idly. "This can't be easy for him. He'll have to spend a night pretending he actually cares about you."

Chuck ignored her.

He ignored both of them as he walked away, engulfed in the same prickling nausea that came about whenever his parents were under the same roof.

* * *

"Blair!"

Blair went still as the blonde's voice floated over the counter of the cloakroom. The ruffled skirt of her floor-length coral dress was currently pushed up around her thighs, which Chuck still had his hands wrapped around as he leant between her legs on the sofa. Her fingers were still buried in his hair. She peered over his shoulder, straining to make out her best friend in the dim light.

Luckily, the sofa was tucked in to the side and Serena was looking the other way.

She shoved at Chuck's chest and managed to wriggle out of his hold, hissing, "Move it!" She yanked her dress down and slid off the sofa - Chuck, in comparison, was quite languid as he readjusted his bowtie. He was more intent on pulling her back down with him and finishing what they'd started.

But Blair shoved him again, this time towards the coat racks where he couldn't be seen. He was so infuriatingly, deliberately slow that she had to keep shoving him, small hands pressed sharp into his back. She was just about to turn once she decided he was well enough hidden - but he caught her suddenly, pulling her back for one last kiss. She groaned softly into his mouth as his tongue slipped into hers and his hands tightened on the small of her back.

"Chuck-"

"Blair? Are you there?"

Chuck growled in complaint as she broke the kiss, giving his chest another push. Then she'd slipped out of his grasp and was heading back to her best friend.

"What's wrong?"

Serena blinked as the brunette emerged. She could have sworn she wasn't there a second ago. "Where did you go? You've been getting your coat for the past half hour."

Blair rolled her eyes at the empty counter. "No one to serve. I had to look for it myself."

"I know," Serena frowned. "Because we checked our coats into the other cloak room, remember?" She held up the coat that was already slung over her arm.

Blair's smile widened. "Oh, right! That's why I couldn't find it." She took it from the blonde with another bright smile. "Thanks."

Serena's eyes narrowed in confusion. It wasn't like her best friend to forget something like that. But then, Blair had seemed distracted all through the opera. Serena wondered if she and Chuck had had another fight - the blonde had caught her glowering over at him in the interval, while he'd stood with Bart and Evelyn.

"Have you seen Chuck?" she asked now, watching the other girl's reaction. She could've sworn there was an odd look in Blair's eyes as she said the name.

But her friend just shrugged. "No. Why?"

"Bart was looking for him." Serena was still watching her with a slightly pursed brow. "Something about an interview..."

Blair pulled a face inwardly. She'd seen the Basses in their box and assumed their rare public appearance together was another of Bart's efforts at damage control - and she'd been able to see, from her own box, the toxic silence between the three of them. Bart on his blackberry, Evelyn not even pretending to look interested. And Chuck, slouched against the corner as far away from them as he could get. She'd also noticed the tightness of his jaw while they were posing for photographs in the interval. None of them had been smiling - Evelyn's expression was one of outright boredom.

She didn't envy Chuck having to go back to that now. If only Serena hadn't come looking for her, then they could've stayed in the cloakroom a little longer...

"B." Serena gave her an impatient nudge. "Can we get out of here now? Remember," she enthused, "Columbia wardrobes to discuss?" It was their orienatation day tomorrow.

Blair smiled back a little. "Let's go." She let Serena lead the way - and then she glanced back, briefly, to where Chuck was standing. She flashed him a smirk over her bare shoulder and was rewarded with the gleam of a faint grin back.

* * *

"Ugh." Carter grimaced as he read the mail he'd just opened. "We've been invited to the Bass' anniversary party. You'd think they'd just do Chuck the favour of killing each other..."

Blair gave him a little look; his mouth twisted.

She picked a strawberry out of her fat-free yoghurt. "Does this mean Bart's actually letting people into their home?" She knew that the man was notoriously private - the only parties at that penthouse, from what she'd heard, were the all-nighters that Evelyn threw when her husband wasn't around.

"Must be in trouble," Carter reflected.

He remembered the last forced affair between Harold and Eleanor after a male model had threatened to take his story to the press. Eleanor had been furious. He didn't say that to his sister now, though. She'd never known about _that_ aspect of their marriage and he didn't want her to. She needed to have something good to cling to, for God's sake.

Carter hadn't been all that surprised when he'd found out. He'd always been closer to Eleanor than to his dad anyway - he and Harold joked around, but he'd never had that same level of idolation that Blair had reserved for the man. And it was clear Harold had found his adoring little girl much easier to be a father to. His parenting methods with Carter had tended to involve turning a blind eye to his various misdeeds or turning them into a joke. Eleanor had always been the only figure Carter had any respect for.

He could see why Blair had been closer to Harold, though, since Eleanor had always reserved a special amount of harshness for her daughter. Carter had never received that constant criticism over his clothes or what he ate. And unlike Blair, whenever he thought his mother was being ridiculous he'd tell her so. Blair just used to go stiff and swallow the criticism even as she pretended she hadn't. And some of the comments Eleanor aimed at her daughter really had been ridiculous. He'd seen his sister change outfits that looked perfectly fine because of one pointed comment; her problem was that she'd always taken it too personally.

Carter and Eleanor had argued, but they'd understood each other. The truth was that for all her furious snapping and that iron will, Eleanor had needed to be challenged. Stood up to. Carter couldn't help but think that if their parents hadn't died when they did, Blair might have figured that out. She was good enough at arguing with anyone else.

He glanced at her, now, as she got to her feet and dropped her napkin over her plate. "Thanks for the breakfast." She tossed him a quick smile, already reaching for her phone.

"I thought orientation didn't start for another hour?" He asked idly as she swung her bag onto her shoulder.

"I said I'd meet Serena before." (She'd said no such thing. Chuck was giving her a ride).

"Well, try not to crush too many freshmen. You should probably pace yourself."

She considered this for a beat. "I'll think about it."

Carter smirked.

* * *

"I need to go," Blair mumbled into the skin of Chuck's neck.

It wasn't all that convincing with his hands gripping her bare waist under her yellow ruffle top and her little body still pressed against his. Her fingers crept to his nape as she kissed the hollow of his throat, mouth sliding under the undone top buttons of his shirt to kiss his collar bone too. Chuck pulled her closer against the leather seats.

"Who'd have thought," she murmured between kisses, hand curling in his hair, "That your limo would be so useful?"

The thin material of her citrus fruit pencil skirt was tight against her thighs as she shifted in his lap and his hands crept up the warm skin of her spine.

"My limo," he reflected, closing his eyes at the sweet heat of her mouth, her lips against his skin making him grip her tighter, "The elevator, that vestibule, the changing rooms at Bergdorfs-"

"And Saks." She breathed it against his skin, soft, as she nipped his neck.

His fingers dug into her back. "And Bendels."

He felt her sigh in contentment. Her kisses had moved to his jaw now; he lowered his head and captured her lips in his, arms trapping her in place. Her breathing hitched as he deepened the kiss.

When they finally broke for air, she gazed down at him with a faint smile and her fingers ran over his cheek. His eyes were golden as he gazed back up at her - and she felt something catch in her throat, suddenly.

She withdrew her hand from his face.

"I really do need to go."

He caught the hand in his and kissed her again. "You'll be amazing, Waldorf," he muttered against her lips. She smiled again, back against his.

"Well. Obviously."

Her hand slid for the door handle, and she managed to disentangle herself from him. "See you tonight?"

Serena was dragging them all out to celebrate their first day of college. Chuck was going to point her in the direction of the clubs with the best back rooms. Or hidden corners.

"Can't wait," he mumred as he watched her climb out of the car. And his eyes stayed on that tight little figure as she disappeared down the street, his neck still tingling from her kisses and that odd hungry feeling burning inside him.


	10. Chapter 10

_'I love everything about you that hurts_

_So let me see your moves'. _

* * *

"To us!" Serena grinned with a toss of her blonde hair, raising her drink.

Blair chinked her own glass back and forced a smile. Her first day at Columbia had been...strange. She remembered being the new girl at Canterbury Accademy; she remembered the subtle stares from people who recalled all the headlines, from teachers who'd been informed and always trod so carefully around her. But she'd been well-dressed enough and from a good enough family that she'd soon been accepted into the right groups of girls. And she'd been cold enough that any ideas of pity had soon disappeared.

But the truth was that she'd been so focused on covering up the nightmares and toilet trips and making sure she wasn't known as that orphan, that any other opinion hadn't really mattered. Worrying that people would see her as the plainer one, the less interesting one, the less _sparkly _one - that had, for the first time in her life, been the last thing on her mind.

No one at school knew her by anything other than her reputation. There had been no one to compare her with and no competition. There had been no Serena.

The Waldorf tragedy was far enough in the past, now, that Blair didn't need to worry about stares from all the other students at Columbia that didn't know her. And she'd been relieved. This was exactly why she'd been looking forwards to Columbia for so long, after all. A fresh start. The Blair she was always supposed to have been, and no one who knew any different.

But she'd forgotten.

She'd forgotten the way heads turned when Serena walked past. She'd forgotten the way Serena lit up a room. She'd forgotten just how _effortless_ everything was for her best friend. College was meant to be the time you moved past all those petty insecurities; but Blair felt like they were hitting for for the first time. And that had caught her unaware. She'd felt like that twelve year-old on the beach again, watching Serena float from boy to boy while she burned with bitterness.

She tried to tell herself she was eighteen years old and not in high school any more. Except high school had never been like this, because Serena had never been there.

Serena had never been there to catch her eye and grin, to nudge her and make her laugh till her sides hurt. Serena had made their first day at Columbia _fun_, something that boarding school had never been. Survival had always been more important than having fun. And now that Serena was here, everything was brighter. Everything was always brighter with Serena.

And somehow that knowledge stung Blair deep down, in that dark bitter part of her that wanted to hate Serena as much as she loved her. It made her wonder if she even knew _how_ to have fun without Serena.

Nate knocked her shoulder with his now, gently. "Come on. Drink up!"

Blair rolled her eyes and knocked back her martini. The bitter taste of gin stung the back of her throat; she found herself wishing she'd gone for a drink as sweet as Serena's cocktail. Serena didn't have to purse her lips to supress a grimace after finishing.

"Where's Chuck?" Serena was asking.

He'd better come, Blair thought savagely as she stabbed the olive in her glass. She hated the way the thought of him not being here made her feel ten times worse.

Two more martinis down - at Serena's insistence - he still hadn't arrived, and she told herself it was a good thing. She didn't want him here anyway. (She didn't want him to see her when she was feeling this insecure). He'd no doubt just laugh at her. Although a small part of her ached for the curl of his lip as he told her she was being ridiculous. He'd told her to stop feeling sorry for herself when she was ten and Serena got nominated for class president, and then he'd helped her rig the votes so Blair won anyway. He'd told her it was for the good of the class.

But they weren't ten any more. Blair had thought she was past this.

And how could she possibly scheme against Serena when Serena was just being...Serena? Blair was the only one with the problem. Serena and Nate were both having a great time. And it was about time she did too, she decided.

* * *

Chuck had spent all day in the meeting with his father, being largely ignored by the man. As expected. Bart didn't let anyone distract him when he got into business mode. Chuck had always watched the utter ruthlessness with which Bart went about things - his father in the boardroom was one intimidating presence. There was a reason he'd made his fortune out of nothing.

Chuck was hardly even aware that he'd adopted the same coldness, the same pentrating stare as he sat in the same room and watched the man. People were genuinely scared of the Basses.

He'd been planning on heading straight to One Oak after the meeting, but Bart had told him an old parter was back in town and he would damn well stay while they invited the guy for drinks. Evelyn had flown to Paris for a couple of days, which was the only reason they were now sitting in the Bass home.

Chuck had heard of Russel Thorpe before. But the fact that he operated from Chicago and not Manhattan was enough to lower him by any standards. Chuck had picked up on a faint coldness behind the pleasantries Russel and Bart were exchanging now; he suspected Thorpe Enterprises had its eye on something Bart wanted too.

Russel could just piss off back to Chicago, he thought with some irritation. He was supposed to have been at One Oak half an hour ago, and he couldn't even get his phone out until this ridiculous thing was over. Russel had brought his twenty three year-old daughter too, who clearly had more experience in this than Chuck did. Not even the gleam of her mahogany breasts in a tight dress interested him. He found himself wishing for smaller breasts that fit perfectly in his hands; that he could only reach under the fabric of a blouse. Raina largely pretended to ignore him, though he'd seen a couple of the smirks she's sent in his direction. He'd smirked back, cool, aware that there was only one girl's smirk he really wanted.

The drinks were bad enough - but then the elevator chimed and he knew they were about to become a lot worse.

There was a swish of fabric and the lazy, echoing click of heels. And then Evelyn appeared in the door. She surveyed them all through slanted eyes, gaze resting on Thorpe and then, with a curl of her lip, back to Bart.

"Well well," she purred. "Russel. What brings you here? Don't tell me you and my husband are thinking about going back into business?"

Bart's face had hardened, as expected. He glanced coldly at his wife. "I thought you were in Paris."

"I got bored," Evelyn drawled. "Saw everyone that I needed to, and...well." She left little doubt as to her meaning. Evelyn only visited other countries if she had lovers in them. "But I've missed _you_, Russel." There was a particularly langorous gleam in her eyes as she perused his figure. "I don't think I've seen you since your hasty departure. Tell me, how's Ilinois?" The name was a barely concealed snort - she shared her son's feelings about the place and then some.

"Fine." Russel was looking at her. Chuck felt that little twist of revulsion, as ever - clearly they'd slept together. No doubt this was why Russel and Bart were no longer partners.

"And how's your wife?" Evelyn enquired indolently. "Not with you?"

Russel cleared his throat, but his gaze still hadn't left the woman. "Avery's still in Chicago."

"Send her my love, won't you?" Evelyn smiled, horrible.

"Chuck," Bart interupted. If his wife was getting to him, he didn't show it. He never did. His face was closed and cool as ever. "We've kept you and Raina long enough. You can give her a ride."

Chuck realised then that Raina was bristling a little, frowning at her father. In other words, Bart wanted him to get rid of her. Well, that worked fine in his favour.

"Good idea," Russel was agreeing. "Didn't you have a spa appointment anyway, sweetheart?"

Raina climbed to her feet with some reluctance. She was looking with evident distrust at Evelyn. Evelyn didn't even spare her a glance.

When her son stood too, though, her gaze flickered to him. "Are you seeing Blair tonight, darling?" Those dark eyes were narrowed idly. She still didn't bother looking at Raina, but it was obvious what she meant. She'd seen that the girl was beautiful enough and she couldn't have Chuck getting distracted. Besides, the bitch looked far too much like her mother. Insecure little Blair worked far more in her favour. "Don't keep her waiting."

Chuck ignored her, and he only bothered waiting for Raina so that Bart could attempt to get on with his deal. He was so busy hating his mother that he didn't notice the eager kid with the cell-phone who photographed him following Raina into his limo.

Raina raised an eyebrow at him as the car pulled away. "So, that was awkward."

Things like that had stopped being awkward for Chuck a long time ago. This was far from the first man Evelyn had thrown in his father's face, and not the first man who'd had his doting wife or children with him at the time.

He just snorted.

"Who's Blair?" Raina asked lightly. "Your mother obviously loves her. Is she your girlfriend?" She didn't think he looked like the kind of guy who _did _girlfriends.

"No." It was quite brusque, almost harsh.

She looked at him sideways. "Are you available, then?"

Chuck spared her a glance in return. He wasn't blind; she was beautiful. "I'm not," he said, slowly. Quietly. She looked wrong on the leather seats of his limo.

Raina smiled a little. "That's a shame."

"Mm." Blair hadn't responded to his text. He hoped they were still in One Oak. Raina glanced over his shoulder as he sent her another one, her face on the screen as he selected her from his contacts.

"Is that her?" She raised an eyebrow. "She looks very young."

Chuck pushed his phone in his pocket. "She's the same age as me," he answered coolly.

Raina gave him a look. "You seem a lot more experienced."

He snorted again but said nothing. He bet Waldorf was pissed at him for being late. He'd been looking forward to going out until his mother had showed up; now he had no particular desire to do shots with Nate and Serena. Hopefully he'd be able to pull Blair off early.

The car finally drew to a stop outside Raina's hotel, and she glanced at him again. "Thanks for the ride." She paused for a moment before fingering a business card. She slipped it into his jacket pocket as she climbed out with a faint grin. "If you ever get bored of little girls...I'm in the city till next week. Call me or don't - the offer is there."

Chuck rolled his eyes and threw away the card once she'd gone. Raina was beautiful, and he was sure plenty experienced. But there was only one offer he wanted, and it was from just one brunette. Serena and Nate would be well into making out by now - he told Arthur to step on it.

* * *

He pushed through throngs of beautifully dressed girls, and felt a flash of relief as he heard a familiar loud giggle. One blonde head stuck out above the other at the bar. They were still here.

She had his back to him by the time he finally reached their spot; but he felt that twist at the sight of her dark curls against a navy dress. He was just about to reach for her - in a friendly way, of course, round the curve of her waist - when he realised she and Serena were mid argument.

"-Because it's just yours to take?" Blair's voice sounded very tight above the music.

"B," Serena was protesting. "Look, I don't want to get in your way. Ok? I'm not trying to _outshine_ you at Columbia-"

"Because you don't even have to try!"

Nate noticed him then, and the relief on his face was obvious. "Chuck." He sounded pointed, clearly trying to distract the girls. "Hey! What took you so long?"

He saw Blair's spine stiffen. She jumped down from her bar stool without looking at him. "Excuse me."

Chuck took hold of her arm before she could get anywhere, eyes narrowing a little. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

She ripped herself out his grasp; that was when he saw the anger on her white face. "That's not really any of your business, is it?" She'd disappeared into the crown before he could stop her again.

He rounded on Serena. "What the hell's going on?"

The blonde was obviously upset. "Why don't you tell me, Chuck? We saw Gossip Girl. _Blair_ saw Gossip Girl. And when I tried to tell her to forget about you, she practically bit my head off. How could you do this again? Blair won't admit it, but you know she's waiting for you. She's not even_ looking_ at anyone in Columbia. You're obviously not ready, and you need to tell her that instead of doing whatever it is you're doing-"

"And what am I doing?" Chuck snarled.

Serena sighed and thrust her phone in his face for an answer. He snatched it away. On the screen was a photo of him helping Raina into his limo.

_Looks like C has already traded up_, the caption read. _Poor B. First Columbia, then Bass...will she ever get her chance in the spotlight?_

Chuck's jaw tightened.

He pushed the phone back and turned on his heel before Serena had a chance to berate him again.

* * *

Blair came out of the bathroom to find Chuck waiting for her. Glowering, she went to push past - but he caught her arm. "What's your problem?"

She twisted in his grasp and spat, "Nothing. Let go of me."

He didn't. "That was Raina Thorpe. Her father's doing business with mine. Bart asked me to take her home."

"Bass," she snapped. "I could care less if you want to mix business with pleasure. Go right ahead."

He let out a snarl of frustration as she pulled her arm out of his grip and moved away. He went straight after her, and this time he managed to pin her against a wall. He leaned his hand up next to her head so she couldn't get away again; she wriggled and tried to refuse to look at him. He was angry and equally aware of how hot her body was under his.

"You're the one who wanted no strings attached." His eyes were dark amber in the light, slanted down at her.

"Yes," she hissed, "But the deal was that you couldn't sleep with anyone else while you're sleeping with me. I told you, I don't want an STD."

"Did it look like I was sleeping with her in that photo?"

"What," she sneered, "While you were taking her into your limo?"

He leaned closer, his face milimetres from hers and his hand still trapping her. His voice was little more than a growl. "There's only one person I do that with in my limo." She tried to scoff, but it caught in her throat. He was too close. "I'm not into cougars anyway."

Blair pressed her lips together. "I told you, I don't care."

He traced the tight line of her mouth. "Really?" he murmured. She could smell his aftershave, and the familiar scent was making her dizzy. She tried to squirm away again, and he captured her lips with his. His mouth was hot and firm and she was suddenly glad there was a wall pressed against her back to hold her up. He felt her finally relax into him as his hand caught the nape of her neck.

This, he realised, was what he'd been waiting all day for. He felt his own shoulders relax and the tension in his jaw disappear, thoughts of his Thorpes and his parents long gone as he deepened the kiss.

She was breathless when they finally broke apart, and he could feel her heart flutter against his. Her eyes were wide and dark as they gazed up at him. "'You're not allowed to kiss anyone else either. I need to know where your mouth has been."

He smirked a little, his forehead against hers as his fingers buried in the back of her hair. "Same rule applies to you, then." He didn't think he could stand the thought of those lips on anyone else's. He kissed her lower neck, bare above the cream collar of her dress. "Besides," he murmured into her skin. "There's only one person I want to kiss..." His mouth brushed her ear as his other hand slid, slowly, up her dress. "And one person I want to do this to."

He smirked again, against the hot skin of her neck, as she moaned in pleasure.

* * *

"Blair!" Serena caught her as she approached, grabbing the smaller girl's hands. "B, I'm sorry about earlier. Don't worry about Columbia." The blonde was clearly several more cocktails down.

Blair smiled and squeezed her hands back. "I'm sorry, S. I was being a bitch."

"Look," Serena insisted. "You're my best friend, and I love you. We're at school together for the first time in years and we're going to _enjoy _it. Ok?"

Blair's smile stayed in place. "Ok."

But as Chuck slid onto the bar stool next to them and she caught his eye, feeling the heat of his arm next to hers, she reflected that maybe she _did _know how to have fun without Serena.

The blonde's eyes narrowed on him for a second. Chuck's hand was now on the small of Blair's back. Blair noticed Serena's pointed look and rolled her eyes. "It's Gossip Girl, S."

Her best friend considered this for a moment. She had to admit that she had a point. "All right, then." Her mouth twitched reluctantly; she could never stay mad at anyone for too long. Even Chuck. "Just be careful, both of you!" She was a little drunk, and she was teasing.

But Chuck's eyes slid to Blair's for just a moment, and he found himself wondering just how careful he was really being. And the thought twisted at that good feeling he'd had from her in his arms just a few moments ago. She pulled a face at him and he forced a light smirk back. Her eyes were bright now.

But the thought lingered in the back of his mind. And it suddenly felt a lot like the faint twistings of something close to _guilt_.

* * *

Chuck had considered skipping the hell of his parents' anniversary. He'd considered it, knowing damn well he wouldn't - he needed to be there. Even the knowledge that the Waldorfs would be there didn't make it any less bearable. If anything, it made it worse; it meant that Evelyn and Blair would be in the same room.

He'd actually wanted to tell Blair not to come at all.

But Serena was going, and Nate was going - she'd never stay at home.

Worse still was the fact that Carter would be there too. Chuck had spent a lot of time avoiding his supposed friend since they'd got back from the Hamptons. It wasn't, really, any of Carter's business how Blair spent her time - her brother couldn't dictate who she slept with. No one told Blair what to do. But still that guilt churned, silently, in the back of his mind. Because he knew that there weren't many things that Carter cared about, and Blair was one of them. And he knew Carter would never not put his sister's best interests first. He kept telling himself that Blair was entitled to enjoy herself, that she was fully capable of making her own choices. She knew what she wanted.

(But the truth was that he wasn't sure he could handle even the the idea of giving her up).

And this evening, he already knew, was going to be unbearable. Evelyn had already started drinking, her male guests already flocking at the door, and Bart was nowhere to be seen because the reporters hadn't arrived yet. He was no doubt still working.

Chuck had taken up residence by the bar while he waited. He could see Evelyn talking in a low murmur to one of her admirers out of the corner of his eye. He never knew if things were worse or better when Bart was there. Bart tended to keep the parties under control, but Evelyn tended to act even more malicious at his presence just to spite him. Bart was even colder to Chuck when Evelyn was there; but Chuck suddenly became the centre of Evelyn's focus, which was far worse. As a small kid, he'd used to think that Evelyn's attention was genuine affection and not simply a ploy to get at his father. She'd told him enough times that she was the only parent who loved him. Better than Bart, who didn't seem to have the word 'love' in his vocabulary. Chuck had certainly never heard him use it. Despite the layer of unease that had shrouded most of his interactions with his mother, he'd always thought he was closer to her. Because the more Bart criticized, the more Evelyn heaped praise and lazily defended him. And vice versa.

He didn't know when, exactly, he'd realised just how much he hated her. He didn't know if it was the first time he'd caught her in bed with another man. The first time she'd told him he was as bad as his father was. The first time she'd struck him, perhaps, those long nails that had once caressed his cheek and the scent of alcohol.

He knew that Evelyn was unhappy, stuck in an awful marriage. She'd spent so long poisoning him against Bart, telling Chuck he was incapable of human feeling and would only ever bring misery – that he didn't know how to love. Chuck couldn't pinpoint when it was exactly that he'd realised she might as well have been talking about herself.

She blamed it all on Bart, he knew. The picture she'd always painted had been of a young, vibrant woman trapped to a man so cold that was it any wonder she'd become bitter? And Bart _was _cold. Chuck resented his father for being everything Evelyn said he was. He couldn't imagine his father ever having even liked, let alone _loved_ her.

But still they carried on with the charade. Chuck had assumed it was because of the money. The scandal of a divorce. But sometimes he wondered if it wasn't just that they both liked being miserable. Evelyn liked torturing Bart, and Bart was too devoid of feelings to change that.

_Happy Anniversary_, the banner read.

Chuck picked up his first glass of scotch as he heard his mother's sensuous laugh. The door opened and Bart appeared, closely followed by the journalist of the evening. He didn't even look at his wife.

Happy anniversary indeed.

* * *

Anne's punctuality ensured that the Archibalds were one of the first families to arrive – and Chuck was glad. Nate escaped his parents the first chance he got to join his best friend at the bar.

"Hey, man." Nate knew what the Basses were like; he glanced over at Evelyn too. She was on the opposite side of the room to Bart. Bart was still talking to the reporter. Nate pulled a sympathetic face.

"Scotch?" Chuck muttered.

"Yes please."

They grimaced at each other as they both drank.

* * *

Blair was late arriving thanks to Serena. The blonde, of course, hadn't been ready in time. Serena had many skills, but being able to keep time wasn't one of them.

Carter had got particularly impatient. He wasn't looking forward to a night at the Basses, and he'd been aware that Chuck was avoiding him.

His little sister pushed ahead of him, now, as they moved out of the elevator. Carter watched her approach Nate and Chuck, but he didn't catch much from their greeting. Chuck's hand rested briefly against the skin of her back, bare in her brown silk dress – but she was hugging Nate now anyway. With any luck, Carter had succeeded in putting a stop to whatever it was between them. If Chuck had any sense then he'd do the same. Hell, if he cared about Blair then he'd do the same.

"Bass." He joined Chuck himself as he glanced round the room. Christ, what a mess. Evelyn had her hand on some guy's shoulder with that eternal look of boredom on her face. "Where's the scotch?"

* * *

Blair was trying to focus on Serena and Nate's story, but her gaze kept moving back to Chuck. He was with his parents and the reporter. Flawless in his tuxedo. And she could see, even across the room, his tight slanted smile. Evelyn simply looked amused. It struck Blair that both Bart and Chuck had the same rigid shoulders. But she was more focused on the darkness in Chuck's eyes and the urge to make it _go_. She hated it. She hated what it was doing to her insides.

She couldn't take it anymore, she realised.

She managed to get away from her best friends to slip closer to Chuck.

"Bartholomew is a wonderful father," Evelyn was purring. "He and Charles had the closest relationship. He's never missed a birthday or a parent teacher conference. Have you, lovely?" Although for all Evelyn knew, that could even be true – it wasn't like she ever bothered with any of the things either. "It's so important for Charles to know where his father's priorities lie." There was a note of particularly cruel relish in her voice.

The reporter had picked up on it, of course. "Cha – uck." He didn't really know what to refer to the boy as, or which of his parents to listen to. "You must admire your old man."

"He's the most successful person I know," Chuck replied drily. "How could I not?"

Bart cleared his throat. "Why don't we take a break?" He was already moving off with the reporter, one more cold look in his wife and son's direction. "I'll get you a drink."

Evelyn swept away to get herself a drink, and Chuck decided he needed the same thing. As far away from his parents as possible.

He was just rounding the pillar when a small hand shot out and pulled him behind it. He found a small brunette pressed against him, her eyes shining.

"I thought you could do with a break of your own," she whispered. She just wanted that look to leave his eyes.

And then she'd slipped her hand through his and was leading him out onto the balcony where they wouldn't be disturbed. The night was cool, and as his hands found that warm bare skin against her back he felt the shiver that ran up her spine.

But she was smiling up at him as her fingers curved around his shoulders, butterfly kisses against his mouth that ached from forcing a smile and his jaw that was still clenched. He was suddenly filled with a blind, aching desire for her. For the warmth of her body and those soft dark eyes and the scent of her hair. He pulled her closer; but she was suddenly slipping away from him, down on her knees.

"What are you doing?" he murmured.

She smiled up at him. "Helping you relax." Her skin was pale in the darkness, her throat exposed as she reached for his pants.

He stilled then. "Blair." He caught her shoulders suddenly, pulling her away. Because Christ the mere thought of that turned him on – but he didn't want that now. And _that_ confused him. "What are you doing?" he repeated.

He saw her freeze, saw that flicker in her eyes as she looked up at him. As she realised he was stopping her. She looked like he'd just kicked her. She stopped trying to open his pants. "Nothing," she muttered. She'd been thinking that this was Chuck and she didn't know how else she could make him feel better. She'd been thinking that -

Oh God. Of all the humiliating -

She got quickly to her feet, trying to pull away. Chuck was oddly immobile as she reached the balcony door. She was on the verge of yanking it open when he stopped her.

"Blair." His voice was low and tight. "Wait."

"Why?" she shot back furiously, aware of her burning cheeks in the cool darkness. "So I can be humiliated some more? Thanks, I think I'll go."

He grabbed her then. "Just _wait_."

She struggled against his chest; he'd just rejected her, for fuck's sake. Chuck Bass had just rejected a girl going down on him. She'd got on her _knees _for him.

His hands gripped her forearms. "You'll get your dress dirty, Waldorf." He tried to keep his tone light, but she could still only glare at him. Finally, he muttered, "You _are _helping me relax."

He dropped down onto the balcony chair.

She gazed down at him, uncertain. His shoulders were still tight. He suddenly looked impossibly tired in the darkness, and it made her chest constrict.

And before she knew what she was doing, she was sliding onto his lap and her arms were winding, tight, around his neck. Her head rested on top of his as she held him tight. She didn't give him a chance to protest, either. She felt him pause in her hold. And then she felt his hands grip the small of her back as his face pressed, slowly, into the crook of her neck. He closed his eyes against the softness of her skin and she clung tighter, fingers running through the back of his hair.

And as she held him and felt the stiffness finally leave his body, and his hot fingers tracing her spine, she realised it was too hard to keep pretending. It was the same feeling that had threatened to engulf her as she'd woken up in his arms after their first night together.

The tightness in her chest and the odd feeling in her stomach every time she looked at him; that aching _want _for him and the need to protect him. The pain at the thought of him kissing someone else, the misery when she wasn't with him.

It wasn't going away.

"Charles."

His body coiled, just like that – as did hers – because Evelyn was suddenly standing in the balcony doorway. She regarded them in silence, and Chuck saw the satisfaction in her eyes.

"Your father wants us. We have to finish the interview." Her gaze lingered on Blair for a moment. "Darling," she said, soft. "I'm so glad you came. I see you've got her well-trained, Charles."

Chuck was already on his feet and guiding Blair in front of him, rigid, off the balcony and away from his mother.

He could see his father on the other side of the room, waiting with the reporter.

He was still holding Blair as he turned away from the man. "Want to get out of here?" he murmured against her ear.

She was still white and a little shaky, but she wasn't entirely sure it was just because of Evelyn.

Carter appeared at that moment. He'd seen them both come in from the balcony. And he saw, now, that Blair seemed a little pale.

He arched an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Blair managed to roll her eyes.

"I'm heading off," he said, shortly. He was still watching his sister. "Blair?"

Blair caught Chuck's gaze. His eyes were golden and that feeling in her chest was worse than ever. "I-"

"You should go."

Chuck could see Evelyn moving to rejoin Bart. He'd also seen the slight pallor to Blair's skin and the way Carter was narrowing his eyes at him. She did need to get out, he realised. And not with him. This was his mess, after all. He didn't want her anywhere near Evelyn a second longer. And seeing Carter so concerned – even if he'd never admit it – jerked at that feeling again.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Carter glanced back at Chuck, once, before they left. The expression on his face was unreadable.


	11. Chapter 11

_'Bitter you, bitter me_

_My better half has bitten me'._

* * *

It was semi-dark in the Waldorf kitchen with just the side lights on. Midnight had passed a while ago. Carter, at the counter, scrolled lazily through his laptop as he helped himself to scotch. Eleanor had never approved of night caps, and Harold had rarely drank anyway. But he remembered drinking once from the bottle his mother had confiscated from him - with her - after a particularly bad fashion show. Just one glass, as she'd sternly told him how bad alcohol was. They'd both known they would never need to tell Blair or Harold.

He glanced now at a photo of Tish that had popped up on his newsfeed. She was sprawled langurously on the banks of the Cam, red hair tipped back against the grass and that familiar idle smile. Which was no doubt what she spent most of her days at Cambridge doing. Carter knew Tish was hopelessly dyslexic, but she was far too vain to ever acknowledge that. She chose not to study instead. It didn't matter, anyway, when her father was master of one of the colleges.

There was another grinning photo of Max with some blonde, and then some photos from Ibizia that Tish obviously hadn't bothered putting up till now. Carter flicked past one of Tish splayed on his own lap - it was all right, Max must have taken it - and rolled his eyes at a particularly unattractive photo of Serena and Nate mid make-out. Tish had probably put that one up deliberately. He noticed one of Chuck and Blair, the camera tilted. Tish was obviously tipsy by that point - it must have been in the car on the way to that first club. Carter's own memory of that night was pretty hazy. (The long legs of a particular red-head were the only things he really remembered.)

In this photo Blair was tugging at the champagne bottle in Chuck's grasp, face turned away from the camera and up at him. And Chuck was grinning down at her with such genuine fondness, almost admiration, that he looked practically innocent. Chuck never grinned like that. Or he hadn't done for a long time.

Carter remembered him letting Blair go just a few hours earlier. Which Carter knew couldn't have been easy for him given he'd have to face the night alone with his parents. He _did_ know that Chuck cared about her - he just wasn't sure the guy knew how to put anyone first. Particularly where his libido was concerned. But he'd put her first tonight, that much was obvious.

Carter sighed. Bass was his own breed of irritating. Well, Carter concluded with as he drained his glass, as long as he carried on putting Blair first.

He was on his way to his own room when he heard it.

The faintest whimper in the silence of the penthouse. He wished he could say he'd never heard that whimper before; he stilled for a second, and then he was heading for his sister's bedroom. He pulled the door open. She was curled in a ball on the bed, sheets gripped in her hands as she sobbed in her sleep.

He switched the light on.

"Blair."

She jolted upright, still shaking - Carter was gripping her. It took a moment for her to get her breathing under control, and she was aware of her brother's eyes on her the whole time. He knew. He knew now.

"What was it this time?"

She just shook her head. Her voice was unsteady and her eyes still wet. "Nothing."

He sat down next to her on the bed, and she was suddenly infinitely glad for his presence. Just like she'd been when he'd used to sleep here all those years ago. Her big brother guarding the door. His eyes were narrowed and wary as they regarded her.

He glanced around the shadows. "Being here isn't helping, is it?"

She wanted to tell him she was fine and it was just one bad dream, but the thought of him leaving her to the darkness of this room overwhelmed her. "No." Her voice stuck, stupidly; he exhaled and wrapped an arm around her. She leaned against his shoulder and tried not to succumb to the relief that engulfed her at his presence. Her heartbeat was gradually returning to normal.

No. Being here wasn't helping at all.

So something, Carter knew, had to be done.

* * *

The night couldn't really have ended worse. Evelyn had succeeded in winding the reporter up so much that he'd nearly stormed out, only to end the night following her into her bed anyway. Another reporter. She'd come downstairs afterwards to find Bart making a conference call. Chuck had heard, from his room, the violent smash of glass. No doubt more of their wedding crystal. He was sure she'd done it just to mess up Bart's call; he'd heard her laugh too.

So it was with bitter satisfaction that he moved into his apartment the next day. Bart had clearly been cold with disaproval at his disappearance onto the balcony during the party. He'd asked him, curtly, if that was his idea of taking things seriously. Chuck was willing to bet he'd disapprove of Blair, too, purely because Evelyn wanted her. So thank God he was leaving for Hong Kong this week.

It was currently late afternoon, and he and Nate were sprawled on his new leather sofa watching The Matrix with sushi and a bottle of scotch between them. Chuck suspected his best friend was also glad to move away from his mother's worrying. His own father was still in jail, and Anne had never quite got over the humiliation.

They were interupted by the elevator's chime.

Chuck raised an eyebrow at his best friend. "More take-out, Archibald?"

"You should be careful," a sweet voice agreed. "Even Serena might find you less attractive if you get fat."

The blonde's laugh filled the room; and Nate and Chuck turned to find Blair and Serena at the door. And, behind them, the doorman. With several huge bags.

"Serena's mom is finalising her divorce," Blair announced. "And Carter has decided I'm cramping his style. It's harder to bring home a different girl every night if I'm there. So." Her eyes fell on Chuck. She wore a tight printed white summer dress, arms bare with the last golden glow of her tan. A smile curled at her lips. "Does the offer for moving in still stand?"

* * *

The four of them were helping themselves to drinks from Chuck's new and freshly stocked bar to celebrate their new apartment. Serena was still at the bar, giggling with Nate, as Chuck dropped onto the sofa next to Blair. He was aware of her bare legs against the black leather, and was very glad summer was so late this year. She smirked at him over her glass.

"We're not going to cramp your style too," she purred. "Are we?" Her head was tilted playfully, fingers brushing his thigh under the guise of putting her drink down.

He caught her hand on his lap. Their fingers twined together as he smirked back. "I don't think so," he murmured. He still held her slender wrist as he fingered the edge of her dress, tracing her thigh underneath. She grinned and shifted away, crossing her legs. She gave Nate and Serena a pointed little glance.

Still, Chuck reflected - he'd take having to hide from the blondes over Carter any day. Which he was still wondering about. He looked at her. "So big brother doesn't mind you moving here?"

Blair pursed her lips. "It's not really any of his business, is it?" she asked lightly. Carter had actually agreed, provided she agreed to seeing Dr. Sherman about her nightmares. But she wasn't about to tell Chuck she had to go to a shrink again. She didn't plan on anyone finding out - but especially not Chuck.

Chuck sensed she was keeping something from him. But Serena and Nate had collapsed on the sofa next to them before he could ask.

"So," Serena grinned. "What's the plan? We need to celebrate our first night in style."

"But I don't want go out," Nate complained, running a hand through his hair. They'd obviously been discussing this by the bar. "I mean we've been out every night this week, and I'm kind of exhausted. Plus I have a lacrosse game tomorrow morning."

Serena gave him a little elbow. "All right, old man."

"And you expect us to believe you're wild," Chuck added idly. He gave his best friend a droll look.

"Hey!" The blond tried to protest. "Just because you don't do any physical activity-"

"Well," Blair mused. "That's not entirely true now, is it?" Serena arched an eyebrow at her; Chuck just smirked. There was wicked light in his eye as he glanced at the brunette. "Anyway," Blair went on. "I have eight o'clock class tomorrow too. And I need my beauty sleep."

He could help her get her beauty sleep, Chuck reflected as he eyed the line of her throat. "Staying in it is."

"Fine," Serena sighed. "As long as we get first choice of movie." She spared the TV a glance, still paused on The Matrix. "Preferably something with Channing Tatum. Maybe a dance number."

Nate pulled a good-natured face at his girlfriend. "Then I'm calling my dealer." He saw Blair wrinkle her nose and he paused, suddenly smiling as something occurred to him. "I know what we can do."

* * *

"No way." Blair shook her head. "I am _not _making pot brownies."

"Come on," Serena grinned. "Nate has the best recipe." They'd already dragged the her into the kitchen as Serena yanked bowls down from the cupboards.

"And I bet you missed out in boarding school," Nate agreed. Blair tried not to wince as she saw how much sugar he was pouring out.

Chuck watched, amused, from the kitchen counter. He'd eat the brownies afterwards; but he did not take part in _baking_. She could feel his eyes track her instead.

"I didn't miss out on anything. I don't take mind-altering substances. And you shouldn't either, Archibald, given how slow your reactions are anyway." She gave him a dark look but he just grinned back and kept pouring the sugar. Then, as she noticed the bag of something green; "You're not seriously planning on using all of that?"

"Relax, B," Serena laughed. "I told you - Nate knows what he's doing." She nudged him playfully as he slid the first tray into the oven. "At least when it comes to pot."

Blair peered into the rest of the chocolate mixture very dubiously, arms folded. Serena had already picked up the spoon and started licking it.

"Ok, I refuse to eat any of that if you put the spoon back into the bowl."

Serena cocked her head at her best friend, spoon still very much in her mouth. She licked it again, slowly. "This spoon?" There was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Come on, B. We're practically sisters." She used her finger to scoop another piece of chocolate batter off, pausing around her lips.

"But not that close," Blair informed her.

Serena suddenly leaned forwards, and she'd wiped the chocolate on Blair's nose before she could react. She danced away with a smirk of delight as Blair froze in horror. The smudge was sticky on her face.

Then she'd lunged straight after the blonde, and Nate had to cover his hands against Serena's squeals.

"Hey, watch the bowl-"

He was cut off when Blair shoved a lump of mix in his face. "This is all your fault, Archibald!"

Nate spluttered, trying not to laugh through a mouthful of chocolate. He gazed at the smaller girl. "You really shouldn't have done that."

But Blair slipped behind Chuck before the blond could come after her. Chuck's eyes narrowed at his best friend. "Don't even think about it. This suit is Saville Row." Blair smirked from behind his glower, safe.

Neither of them had noticed Serena. "All your suits are Saville Row," she pointed out as she emptied the last of the flour over his head.

"How old are you," Chuck howled, "Three?" His thick dark hair was now coated in white. This time he grabbed the blonde before she could get away, and Blair took great satisfaction in seizing an egg to crack over her golden tresses.

The oven timer pinged.

"First batch is ready," Nate announced with a grin, mess of the kitchen already forgotten.

* * *

"I should really...go to bed. Get that beauty sleep."

Blair Waldorf, Chuck reflected as she tried to get up off the sofa, was high. Actually high. She giggled a little as she swayed on her feet. He reached out a hand to steady her; and she stumbled against him, landing with a little _mmph_ on his chest. Her brown eyes were wide, hair tickling his face and her little silk slip rucked up. They'd changed into their pyjamas at some point in the evening, their actual clothes now covered in flour and chocolate. She grinned and twined her hands around his neck, suddenly finding this hilariously funny.

"Hey," Serena called out from the other sofa, just as giggly. "Get a room."

Blair's eyes lit up. "That's a great idea! Mine or yours?" she asked Chuck.

He rolled his eyes for Nate and Serena's benefit – Nate just grinned, hazy. "I'll make sure Waldorf gets to bed in one piece." He stood up, pulling her with him. She leaned happily into the arm curled around her waist, one hand pressed against the small of her back.

"As long as you join me in bed," she burbled as he guided her into her room. He shut the door behind them and she grinned again. "I like your thinking." She tried to pull him onto the bed, but she ended up falling on the mattress instead. "Oops," she mumbled. "Maybe those brownies were stronger than I thought. This is all Nate's fault," she sighed as her curls splayed against the pillow and Chuck caught the comforter. "I _told_ him not to put that much in..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes met Chuck's. She stretched on her back. "Are you joining me or not?"

He raised an eyebrow down at her, hands still framing her as his mouth twitched. "I think Nate and Serena might get suspicious."

"Please! They're high. They won't notice anything." She giggled again. "I think I might be high too. But don't tell anyone."

He smirked faintly. "Never." He'd tucked her under the covers now. But she wriggled out of them as he went to stand.

"Where are you going?"

The sight of her reaching for him – wanting him – gave him an odd feeling in his stomach. He tried to remind himself that she was high as he sighed and got back down on the bed with her. She made a little noise of contentment as she seized his collar, nestling her head against his chest. One of her legs slipped in between his as he felt her breath hit his neck, slender fingers tracing haphazard circles against his skin.

"You know," she said drowsily, "You should just sleep here every night."

He glanced down at her. (He had a feeling he knew the real reason she'd left her own penthouse.) His grip tightened, unconscious, as he lowered his head and his mouth pressed against the softness of her hair.

"I'm not pathetic," she promised into his chest, eyes closing. "You're just...warm." He felt her sleepy smile curve against him. "Hot, actually." She wriggled a little closer. "Can I tell you something, Chuck?" His name was so soft as she breathed it against his body, hand stilling at his neck. "Just because I'm...high, so you won't think I'm being serious. So you won't freak out. Promise me you won't freak out?" Her voice trailed off in the silence. "It's a problem, you see. It's a...secret."

"What?" he murmured into her hair.

"I..."

"You what?" His hand covered her spine.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and buried deeper into him. _I love you. _"Nothing." Her eyes stayed shut as clung to him. "Never...mind."

He stared down at her in silence, but she'd already drifted asleep.

* * *

Blair's hand was still curled around his collar in her sleep, her head still against his chest as he felt her even breathing. But he was awake. He was wondering what she'd been going to say to him, and wondering at the same time if he already knew.

What was he doing with her?

Pretending, still, that this was no strings attached? It had never been that and they both knew it. If he'd had any sense, then he'd never have started this in the first place. Because the more time he spent with her, the closer he was dangling her to his mother's web. He'd realised that at the anniversary party - and he'd been stupid not to think otherwise.

Chuck and Blair were always supposed to end up together. He didn't want to end up with anyone else. He didn't _want _anyone else. But that fear - that guilt, in the back of his mind - as he gazed down at her sleeping face suddenly made his stomach churn. Blair Waldorf didn't need his protection, even though he knew he'd kill anyone who hurt her. But what if that person was him? And that person was him. As long as he carried this on. Because what would happen in the end? He couldn't stand the thought of losing her, and he couldn't stand the thought of her being with anyone else. But he couldn't stand the thought of her becoming so much as his girlfriend, because it would mean that Evelyn had won. It would mean that Blair could be paraded round on his arm like some sort of trophy.

He'd told himself that would never happen because this was Blair, and she'd never let it happen.

But, he realised bleakly - he couldn't do it to her.

Because he was a Bass. He wasn't like Nate, whose murmur he could hear on the other side of the door - Nate who reluctantly went along with his family's plans because he loved them, who questioned his place as an Archibald or a van der Bilt and wondered if any of it was really him.

Chuck had never been anything other than a product of his parents. Just like them, he did what he did because he enjoyed being miserable. He was every bit as bad as Bart, every bit as bad as Evelyn. The only _goodness _he'd ever had in him came from the girl now lying in his arms.

He'd spent the last six years ignoring that every part of him already belonged to that girl; ignoring a single kiss in a limo and the taste of a single tear -

She was his best friend and his childhood sweetheart and his scheming partner and his fuck buddy, and it still wasn't enough. And he still couldn't let her go. He slotted his chin over her head and shut his eyes, breathing her in.

She clung tighter to his shirt like she couldn't let him go either.

* * *

"Blair." Dr. Sherman smiled at her as he shook her hand. "It's good to see you again."

Not really, Blair thought as she took the couch. She straightened her grey skirt over tights; it had got noticeably cooler this week, and rain had started to fall outside. Fitting for the miserable hour she had planned in this room. She hadn't been to see Dr. Sherman since she was twelve. Until the incident at the beach, Carter had shown nothing but scorn at the idea of_ therapy_ for either of them – and she'd been glad. But once they'd got back from the Hamptons he'd signed her straight up for Dr. Sherman. Who she'd seen until going to Canterbury Academy, where she'd been transferred to the school shrink.

His oak-panelled office didn't seem to have changed in over six years. She still felt ridiculously small on the vast couch, like it was set to swallow her. She sat on the edge of the seat, just like she had when she was twelve, hands in her lap.

"So. Tell me how you've getting on, Blair."

She sat up a little straighter. "Fine. I'm glad to be home. I'm enjoying Columbia. I've just...had a couple of nightmares."

Dr. Sherman nodded. "The same as when you first came to me?"

"Not exactly," she shrugged a little. The truth was that she wouldn't know – she'd lost track. "I mean, it being dark. I can't see. Hiding. Knowing there's someone in the room...that kind of thing."

She didn't _need _a shrink to tell her they were all a result of trauma from that night. She'd known as much six years ago.

Dr. Sherman nodded again. "And how often do you have these dreams?"

Blair tried not to squirm. "I don't know."

"Every night?"

If she told him every night, then she'd be in therapy for the next six years. She knew as much from school. Besides – she hadn't had any for the past week. Not since she'd moved out of the penthouse. As ever, not since she'd been with Serena, Nate and Chuck.

"No. Just a few times. And now that I'm not in my old room, not at all. I think that must have just triggered them."

She wished Dr. Sherman would stop nodding so understandingly. "So you say you're happy to be home?"

She cleared her throat. "Yes."

"I'm glad to hear it. Did you find it hard at all, having been away for so long?"

"No."

"You don't feel like things have changed since you used to live here? Your friends, for example?"

"No."

The therapist regarded her. "Do you feel that you've changed?"

"No," she said, tightly. "Only for the better."

"The better?"

"I'm the same person I was before my parents died. I feel _more_ like the person I was before then."

There was a moment's silence. "Blair," Dr. Sherman said gently. "Do you remember when you first came to me, when we talked about one of the biggest problems you face?"

"Trust issues? Paranoia?"

"Denial." He readjusted his glasses. "I told you then that it wasn't healthy to go on acting like what happened never did. It's a part of your life, Blair. Accepting it is part of a healthy process."

Blair's eyes narrowed at the man. "I've accepted it. Just because I'm not denying it doesn't mean I have to let it define me."

"No," he shook his head. "Of course not. But it's also about accepting the effects that it has on you. It's natural to want to go back to your old life – human nature clings to the past. But you have to allow yourself room to admit that you've changed. You've adapted. And that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's growth – it's a part of who you are."

"I'm not clinging to the past," she snapped. Was that what she was doing with Chuck, she wondered? Clinging to him because he'd used to be the only thing she knew? "I'm not," she said rigidly.

Chuck let her be the girl she'd used to be. The girl she _wanted _to be. The girl that didn't spend an hour in a therapist's office whining about her feelings. A stiff, good little girl who sat with her hands on her lap and let other people tell her how important _growth _and _acceptance _and _healthy _were.

She wasn't weak. With Chuck she was never, never that weak.

"I'm sorry." She turned her attention back to the therapist. "Could we just...take a break? I need some water." She was already on her feet. She walked out of his room and she walked straight past the girl at the desk and out of the building.

She sent Chuck a text.

_Meet me in 10? At Bloomingdales._

She'd already told him she'd be shopping. She hailed a cab and climbed into it without a single glance back at Dr. Sherman's clinic.

And, she realised, she had no intention of going back there at all.

* * *

Blair had decided that class with Serena was a downright liability. She'd turned up fifteen minutes late to their business lecture, blonde hair flying everywhere and not even a pen to take notes with. Blair had considered pretending not to know her best friend as she smiled brightly and plonked down next to her, much to the lecturer's obvious disapproval. And a number of dark looks from a group of girls in headbands that Blair had already decided were minion material.

Blair, in contrast, had been poised and ready with pens in ten different colours, highlighters, and two different notebooks. Serena had then leaned over to check that this was definitely their psychology class. The lecturer had looked about ready to ask her to leave at that point.

"So," Serena was asking now as they filed out of the building. "I need to ask you about Chuck." She fixed the brunette with a look. "Can you _please _tell me what's going on? And don't say nothing!"

Blair was suddenly very interested in her purse. "Nothing, S - because there _is_ nothing going on."

"So why were you so long in the shower this morning?" Serena suddenly demanded. "You know, when I went to ask Chuck if could use the boy's bathroom, there was no sign of him. And," she went on, triumphant, "I heard noises." She pulled a face. "No one is that...happy, in the shower."

"The water pressure is very good," Blair replied crisply. "And Chuck had probably already left. He had a big meeting the morning." Which was exactly why she'd helped him unwind in the shower.

Serena's blue eyes narrowed at her best friend. "And you know that why?"

"Because I actually pay attention to my surroundings?" Blair sighed. "Honestly."

That mouth was still pursed at her. "Why do I think you're the one not being honest?"

"Because you have an overactive imagination," Blair informed her. "And I left my notebook in class." She was already turning away. "See you at home, S!"

Serena rolled her eyes good-naturedly and went on her way. She didn't believe her best friend for a second. There was definitely _something _going on.

Blair waited till the blonde was out of eyesight before she skipped over to a waiting black limo. She was smirking as she slid into the seats, turning to see -

"Carter."

She froze. She turned, too late, to see another limo pull up behind her. As in, Chuck's limo. She twisted back to her big brother.

"This is a nice surprise. I didn't know you were picking me up."

"I'm taking you out to lunch," Carter told her idly. "I haven't seen you all week."

Blair managed a smile. "Oh...yay."

Not that she didn't want to have lunch with her brother. But there were certain other things she'd had planned for her break between class - and they didn't involve sitting in a restaurant.

"So." Her brother gave her a look. "How's living with Chuck?"

"And Serena," Blair pointed out with an eye-roll. "And Nate. And," she admitted, "It's good." She gave him a little grin.

So he had at least made the right choice by suggesting she move in there. Provided Chuck behaved himself, he thought darkly. But she _did_ seem genuinely at ease. "Any more...?"

She shook her head quickly. "No." No, she hadn't had any nightmares since she'd moved in. Though she also hadn't slept alone since she'd moved in, but she pushed that thought away.

"And how's therapy going?" he enquired. "Dr. Sherman as dull as ever?"

"Yes," she forced a smile. "It's fine." Then, more truthfully; "I really do feel a lot better."

Carter's face softened for a fraction of a second. (Not that he'd ever admit it.) "Good," he murmured. "So Greek or Italian?"

* * *

"Hey, man." Nate's brow was furrowed in confusion as he stopped next to Chuck's limo, notcing his best friend with the window wound down. "What are you doing here?"

Chuck scowled as he watched the limo Blair had just climbed into pull away. He recognised Carter's lisence plates all too well. Damnit.

Nate, however, had started to grin. "Waiting for someone?"

"Who would I be waiting for?" Chuck responded, still scowling.

"I don't know." Nate paused and gave his friend a look. "Blair, maybe?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really? So how come your bed doesn't look like it's been slept in at all this week?"

Chuck pulled a face at the blond. "It's called maid service, Nathaniel."

"Uh-huh." Nate was still grinning, anything but convinced. "Whatever, man."

Serena had been so right.

* * *

"Is the coast clear?"

Blair slipped out of the elevator and peered round the apartment. Chuck was sitting on the couch with a sheaf of papers; but they were forgotten as he drank her in. She was wearing a trench coat, her hair pulled to the side. She looked delicious.

"Clear," he smirked. Nate and Serena were at the van der Woodsens - Chuck had never been more glad. The blondes had got even more insistent with their questions lately. Blair smirked back as she advanced on him, slowly unbuttoning the coat. His mouth went dry as it slid off her shoulders. She was wearing a cream teddy underneath, lacy underwear and nothing else. His eyes raked over her body. Her tan had finally faded, her skin smooth and pale as she slid onto his lap. His hands ran automatically up her bare thighs. She grinned down at him as her pulled her closer, fingers playing with his tie. She unfastened it and her kisses slipped from his jaw to his neck.

"I missed you," she murmured, teasing.

He tugged her even closer, her hips grinding against his arousal as she raked her hands through his hair and he caught the soft spot of her collar bone. "Then let me make it up to you."

* * *

"Carter! How's it going?" Max's contented voice filled Carter's ear as he picked up his cell. "So, guess what? Me and Tish are coming to New York! I take it we can stay at yours?"

"Sure," Carter drawled. Oh, hell. If Tish came to New York he was bound to end up in bed with her again. Especially if she was staying in his apartment. They'd have to be extra careful this time. "Can I ask the occassion?"

"Tish's uncle died," Max said brightly. "Her daddy never got on very well with him, but they're reading the will in a couple of days - so here's hoping!" He chuckled. There was a girl's voice in the background. "Tish?" Max was speaking to whoever it was now. "No, angel, she's no one."

Carter's phone beeped with another call. "I've got to go. Just call me when you get in." He picked up the other line, frowning. He didn't recognise the number. "Hello?"

"Mr. Waldorf? This is Dr. Sherman. I'm just calling because Blair hasn't turned up for her session again today. She hasn't been for the past three weeks - I just wanted to check she's all right?"

Carter had gone very still. "What?"

* * *

Blair's sweet skin was flushed against Chuck's as she lay under him on the couch. Their hearts were both still thumping as he gazed down at her dark hair curling around her face. She leaned up to kiss him, grinning, and his hand ran over the soft curve of her neck.

"That's one more surface of this apartment," she murmured as she caught his lower lip, nipping. His grip tighened on her collar bone.

"I can think of three more in this room alone..."

They both suddenly froze as they heard the elevator. Nate and Serena must be back. What the hell were they doing back so early? Blair was already shoving him off, scrabbling for the coat to cover herself up -

And then they both turned to find Carter in the doorway.

Carter stared between the two of them in silence. Chuck's open shirt and discarded tie, Blair's coat buttoned up all wrong. Both their dishevelled hair.

"What the hell is going on?"

His voice was very quiet.

"Carter-"

"I get a call," his voice was low with barely controlled fury, "Saying you didn't turn up to your session with Dr. Sherman - and you're _here_?" His gaze shot around the room. "With _him_?"

Eyes narrowing, Blair moved a little closer to Chuck - and at that, Carter lost it.

"_You_," he spat at Chuck. "You take her out of therapy so you can fuck her-" Blair flinched despite herself, but Carter was beyond noticing. His eyes were on Chuck alone. "-My little sister." His eyes were hard. "_You_, of all people? After everything you fucking said to me then?" He advanced on Chuck. "You little hypocrite. You _knew_," he hissed. "You know. And you did it anyway. You can sleep with any whore you want, and you do this to her? After all those fucking_lectures _you gave me? After the Hamptons?"

Blair was staring now; staring at Chuck. "What lectures? What are you talking about?" He knew about the therapy now, but she realised that was the least of her concerns. A cold dread had started to fill her. Shame. Carter wasn't talking about the Hamptons trip they'd just taken. He could only be talking about one thing - one time. But Chuck? Chuck had talked to him about it? Chuck had _-_

'You were the one," Carter snarled, "Who told me she needed help."

Needed help.

Blair Waldorf had needed help. And Chuck had _known._

She couldn't quite lift her eyes to look at him - but she was waiting. Desperate. Waiting for him to say he had no idea what Carter was talking about. (Lectures?) Waiting for him to deny ever knowing she needed _help_. Waiting for him to tell them she was Blair Waldorf and of course she hadn't.

Nothing.

He'd known.

He'd know, the whole time that she was...pathetic. He'd even told Carter about it. And still he was silent now, and suddenly the icy realisation struck her that maybe he'd pitied her. Why else the silence? They didn't do weakness. Not in front of each other. Had he - _pitied _her? The thought made her feel physically ill.

"I knew it," Carter was spitting. "I knew I should never have let you near her." He grabbed Blair, starting for the door - and she was too humiliated to stop him, because it would have meant looking at Chuck. And she couldn't.

The door slammed shut.

Chuck sank to the couch that had held her just five minutes ago - that still had her indent on the cusions, that still smelt of her - and closed his eyes.

The Hamptons. Six years ago. He'd been lounging in the lifeguard's chair, bored with the heat and his best friend who'd picked the middle of the day to play soccer. Carter was getting high somewhere, and Chuck was watching Blair. Yes, he'd made comments to Carter. _If Waldorf doesn't start eating soon, she'll blow away. Waldorf's not fine. Blair's not all right. _Serena had noticed too; but what could they do? (What could Chuck Bass do?)

She was functioning. She was functioning too well.

And his comments to Carter did nothing because Carter wasn't all right either. He spent every other day drunk or high. He only stayed in the country for his sister. Otherwise Chuck was sure he would have lost himself in Prague or Dubai long ago. Lily had taken them in, but Lily's life was too hectic for her own two children, let alone two more.

He'd seen her get up from the towel - he'd seen her heading for the sea. Blair didn't like swimming in the sea. It destroyed her hair. He sat up, frowning. He watched between narrowed eyes as she went further and further in. And he realised that his breathing had suddenly caught, because she was too small. She was too small and the sea was too big - and what the hell was she doing?

He pushed down from the chair, picking up the pace as he neared the shore.

Shit.

He couldn't see her any more.

He couldn't see her, and he plunged in without thinking. He caught a flash of white through the salt and he shoved through the water, fixed on getting to it. Getting to her. She was struggling and he nearly lost her as he grabbed her, pulling at her arms, pulling her to his chest and struggling to keep her head above the water.

What the fuck had she been doing? He yanked her through the waves, desperate, lungs bursting till he was finally, finally able to stand up - he lifted her out of the water, limp, dark hair drenched. Her skin was white against the sand as he dropped her there, tilting her head up and searching frantically for a heartbeat - he was aware of Serena running up behind him, shouting - and then Carter, shoving him aside.

The other boy had sobered up instantly - swearing or sobbing, Chuck wasn't sure - as he tried to make his sister breathe; then silent as she coughed, as she turned her head and breathed.

Chuck had found him that night, sober and still grey-faced. "She's not all right."

Chuck had said nothing.

"I thought she had everything together," Carter muttered. "I thought - she goes to school. Her report card's all fucking A pluses. I though she was fine."

Chuck hadn't bothered putting any blame or reproach in his voice. What was the point?

"She's not."

* * *

Blair was silent the car journey back, and Carter was too angry to speak. She wasn't about to start a scene in the foyer, anyway. Or the street.

She waited till they were back in the Waldorf penthouse. "Carter," she said, very flatly. "That had _nothing_ to do with you."

He looked at her in disbelief. "My _friend," - _it was curse, spat - "Is using you, and it has nothing to do with me?"

She didn't bother retorting that he wasn't using her. "Actually, he was my friend first. So, no. Nothing to do with you."

"Chuck Bass," Carter said very lowly, "Is scum." His eyes were hard. "He will chew you up and spit you out. Don't think he won't, Blair. I've seen him, and I've seen the way he treats girls."

Blair folded her arms, furious. "The same way you treat girls, Carter. You've never had a problem with it before - where's this moral high ground coming from?"

He just shook his head. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so angry. "You think," he hissed, "That you can trust him just because you played together in kindergarten? He's not a five year-old any more, Blair." There was so much scorn in his voice that she nearly snapped.

"I'm not an idiot," she seethed. "I don't trust him. But I know him."

Brother and sister faced each other, two pairs of eyes equally fierce. But she _did _know Chuck. It didn't matter if she'd been away for six years - she knew him. Sometimes better than she knew herself. She knew his faults - every one. She wasn't naive, and she'd never been any under illusions about any part of him. She knew he was selfish and nasty; knew he could be cruel and vain and arrogant.

(Which was why the thought of him _pitying _her - even helping her - was making her insides cripple. They didn't do that. He didn't do that. Her vanity could deal with anything but that).

"You know him," Carter said at last. He was gazing at her. "So you know that he's nothing but a coward. You know that all he'll ever do is let you down." He was getting at something - Blair just didn't know what. She stiffened, and Carter continued regarding her. "You know that he couldn't even handle seeing you that summer. That he ran away to daddy's hotel."

"Bart wanted him there," Blair said very quietly. She knew what he was talking about. Her first summer back from boarding school.

"When does Bart," Carter sneered, "Ever _want _him anywhere?" He shook his head. "He ran, Blair. He did what he does best and got the hell out of the country before you could get back from school."

(He'd pitied her).

He'd pitied her, and he'd run. That made sense. That was Chuck. Neither of them could deal with _pity. _What surprised her was how empty it made her feel. A hollow anger. But why anger? Because deep down, however much she denied it, she knew _she _couldn't have run, even if she'd wanted to. Not if she'd thought he needed her.

And it was anger at herself for expecting Chuck to do the same. She _knew _him. Anger. Anger at the thought - the knowledge - that she'd _needed_ him.

"If you'll excuse me," she said icily, "I'm going to my room." She couldn't got back to Chuck's now. Couldn't face him, she realised.

"Blair," Carter snapped.

She jerked out of his hold. "I'm tired."


	12. Chapter 12

_'Oh make me over_

_I'm all I want to be'._

* * *

"B!"

Blair was assaulted by the blonde as she crossed the green after her first class. Serena grabbed her arm, tugging her along and oblivious to the frown from one of the professors at her yell.

"First of all - where were you last night? Nate wanted to go out with his lacrosse team and we met some really great people from Columbia." She paused. "I texted, but you never replied."

"I was at home," Blair muttered. "With Carter."

Actually, she'd been in her room with the door locked and her phone switched off. Forget nightmares - she'd barely got any sleep last night at all.

"Oh." Serena frowned a little. "I thought you'd be out with..."

"I wasn't," Blair snapped back.

Serena gave her a look. But she obviously sensed not to push for now. "Well, clear your schedule." She grinned. "Guess where we're going this morning?"

Blair shot her best friend a wary glance. "Where?"

"Hamilton House!"

Blair stopped. "What?"

She'd heard of the exclusive club - who hadn't? - and had been planning on applying herself. She'd mentioned it to Serena, but her best friend hadn't seemed all that interested at the time.

"So Penelope-"

"Who?"

Serena waved her hand impatiently. "An old friend from Constance, she's at Columbia now. But more importantly, she's a member! And," she went on, beaming, "She said she can get me in. Or at least an interview."

Blair felt suddenly deflated. "That's...great."

Serena nudged her. "And anything she can do for me, she can do for you too." She was still grinning. "We can join together!" She paused as she saw that Blair didn't look as overjoyed as she'd expected. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Blair said quickly. "I just...don't know this Penelope girl." She was painfully aware of the sharp edge to her voice. Because...she'd wanted to apply to Hamilton House first. For herself. Not off Serena's back. She told herself that it didn't matter either way; if she and Serena got in together, then wasn't that the point? (But she couldn't shake the feeling that the blonde had somehow stolen it from her.)

Serena rolled her eyes. "Which is why I'm going to introduce you." She was already dragging on Blair's arm. "Come on!"

* * *

Chuck Bass was accustomed to guilt. Well, he was accustomed to that awful pit in his stomach, but he wasn't accustomed to admitting or facing up to it.

He'd told himself that was all it was as his gut churned all night. But why guilt? Why, every time he thought about those brown eyes -

She wasn't made of porcelain. And he knew _why _Carter acted that way, which was what made it all the worse. Because of six years ago. Because Carter had never got over his own guilt. And Carter was right – Chuck had been the one telling him to look out for his little sister. Because Chuck had wanted her to be happy; that was all he'd wanted.

Except that was a lie. All he'd ever really wanted was _her. _He was selfish and greedy and he wanted her back in his apartment with him so much it actually hurt. And if she was back in that penthouse, then she probably hadn't got any more sleep than he had.

She hadn't told him about the therapy, and he knew she was embarrassed because he knew her. A nicer guy might have left her time to lick her wounds. Chuck wasn't a nicer guy.

Which was why he was on his way to the Waldorf penthouse right now. And he wasn't going anywhere till he'd seen her.

* * *

It hadn't taken Penelope long to feel very threatened by Blair Waldorf. Most of her time at Constance had been spent trying desperately to follow Serena, to stay on top. Serena had undoubtedly been Constance's reigning monarch. Everyone copied her and everyone wanted to be her; the real challenge, though, was trying to keep her attention.

Penelope had expected Blair to be just another one of Serena's many friends. Nothing special. She'd joined Constance herself in eighth grade, long after Blair Waldorf had been packed off to boarding school. And she'd heard about her - of course she had.

But the pale girl in the prim skirt and Valentino blouse was not what she'd expected. For one thing, she was the complete opposite of Serena. Penelope had spent years carefully arranging her hair to look as effortlessly unbrushed as Serena's, perfecting that thrown together-at-the-last-moment look for each of her outfits. The leggings and boots, the low cut tops and barely-there skirts. The headscarves. She'd always prided herself on being the tallest of Serena's followers - the most like the blonde, the most able to pull off her look.

She'd expected Serena's supposed best friend to be an even more perfect clone. How could you be friends with Serena for that long and not get swept up in her heedless style? But Blair Waldorf was quiet where Serena was loud, sharp where Serena was soft, and cold where Serena was warm. She didn't laugh like a six year-old or touch your arm while she was speaking to you. And Penelope had found that decidedly perturbing. She'd found herself thinking her own outfit was garish compared to Blair's; she'd found herself suddenly envying the cool poise Blair seemed to possess. Unlike Serena, Blair looked like the kind of person who would _enjoy _destroying a freshman's life.

And then there was the closeness that she and Serena seemed to have. Serena, of course, appeared _close _to everyone. But she'd always had a soft spot for nice people - and Blair definitely wasn't that. Penelope suddenly found herself wishing she hadn't spent so long going along with the blonde's bursts of sympathy for those less fortunate. Like that time she'd decided to embargo Gossip Girl. They'd all felt the need to pretend they were equally outraged, while being extra subtle about sending in tips.

Penelope had spent the entire morning alternatively eyeing and buttering up Blair Waldorf, both to please Serena and to work out just how much of a threat the girl posed. And admiring and being jealous of her at the same time, all the while quite aware that she wasn't passing whatever test Blair Waldorf had set for her. Blair didn't trust her. Penelope had been hoping she'd be able to push Blair around - and it looked like she was wrong. She didn't like that. She didn't like that at all.

So she'd switched tactics and tried ignoring her. Fawning all over Serena instead, in the wild hope of intimidating the other girl. Trying to stake some kind of footing with the queen she already knew.

Blair had not been impressed.

Her idea of a fun morning was not watching yet more people fall over themselves to get to her best friend. (And that part of her that still felt like she'd been robbed wished she'd been able to make an impression on Hamilton House out from under Serena's glorious golden shadow). Penelope kept harping on about the wild times they'd had at Constance - all the drinking and guys and crazy parties. Serena had tried to include Blair, but that was the problem. Blair didn't want people _trying _to include her. She couldn't think of anything more desperate. She'd planned on forcing herself not to think about Chuck at all; but there it was again. Pity.

And it wasn't even Serena's fault, and that didn't stop the nasty well of sudden, secret hatred. Blair had spent so long missing her best friend that she'd forgotten what it felt like. The love. The adoration and total acceptance edged with resentment so bitter it made her feel sick. How could you _not _love Serena? And how could you not, as her best friend, hate her just that little bit too?

Blair didn't want to be that pathetic girl on the towel. She didn't want to be left behind. She didn't want the person that had been on that beach that day to ever exist again.

That hadn't been Blair Waldorf. She was back, she told herself as she headed down the street. Blair Waldorf was back. She couldn't let Chuck undo that. (She couldn't think about Chuck).

"Blair!"

And then, of course, one familiar voice was all it took to bring it all crashing down.

She turned to see the highly unwanted face of Damien Dalgaard. What the hell was he doing here? She didn't want a reminder of boarding school. She hadn't wanted it in the Hamptons but she really, really didn't want it now. Not here and not in Manhattan. Not on Columbia's campus. Not when she needed to get away from the girl who'd spent all those hours running and studying and being otherwise perfect and dull in every way while Serena had been living life to the full. While Chuck had been -

Damien was grinning at her now. "Miss me?"

"What are you doing here?" she asked tightly. "I thought you were in Prague."

"My father decided to take the ambassador's post," Damien explained. He looked quite pleased with himself. "So it looks like I'm going to be in Manhattan for a while."

Blair pulled a face back at him. "And you decided to enrol at Columbia too?"

"No. I had some business to take care of." It was partially true. He had come here looking for new clients. But mainly he'd come here because he'd seen the Gossip Girl Spotted map with the location of the girl now standing before him.

"Well, promising as that sounds..." Her voice was dry as she went to move past.

He barely restrained himself from grabbing her arm. "Actually, I'm glad I ran into you. I wanted to invite you to a dinner."

"I'm busy," Blair responded acidly.

"Too busy for a State Dinner?" he shot back. At boarding school she'd joined all the clubs that offered her any chance at power – from debate to model United Nations. He was sure she wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity to meet so many influential people. "I hear the chair of La Table Elitaire will be there." Damien had tried to weasel in his connection with Monsieur Dupres a couple of times before, in the hopes of catching her interest.

She arched an eyebrow at him now. (Because she still didn't want that reminder of boarding school, and she felt like his words were dragging her back into that past she needed to prove she'd moved on from. She _needed_ to be a part of Hamilton House and Serena, not La Table Elitaire and Damien).

"Look," Damien sighed. "The offer is there. Just think about it." He glanced at her. He didn't want to ask, but he couldn't help it. "So, how's being back?" He couldn't keep the edge of bitterness out of his voice either. He'd seen all the Gossip Girl blasts. She might have looked like she was with the blondes in all those photos, but it had been Chuck Bass by her side in each and every one of them, and Chuck Bass's hand on the small of her back and Chuck Bass's arm round her waist.

"It's great," Blair snapped.

Damien couldn't stop himself. "I read about some of your exploits. I almost didn't recognise you." He tried to keep his tone light, but there was still that faint curl to his lip. "All those parties? Doesn't sound like the Blair Waldorf I knew." He almost succeeded in making it sound like a joke.

Blair's eyes had suddenly gone very hard. "That's because you don't know me." It was like ice.

"You sure you're not just trying to keep up with your old friends?" The _friends _was a sneer. There was only one person Damien was talking about, and he got the feeling _he_ was a lot more than a friend. The smarmy bastard.

"I don't need to keep up with anyone," Blair replied curtly. "People keep up with me. Or have you forgotten that?" (If she said it enough times, she _would_ be able to make it true and she could stop feeling so sick). "Bye, Damien." She gave him another cold look before she turned on her heel.

She was Blair Waldorf. She was.

* * *

Carter's brow raised in sheer disbelief when the dining room doors opened to reveal Chuck. He dropped his newspaper to appraise the other boy. "What the hell are you doing here? Get out."

"I need to see her."

"The fuck you do." Carter's eyes narrowed. "She's not here. And you can stay away from her."

"Last time I checked," Chuck answered coolly, "I'm pretty sure she didn't need a guard dog." Her first class should be over by now – where was she?

"She also doesn't need you taking advantage of her," Carter ground. "Haven't you done enough?"

Chuck's gaze flashed. "I'm not taking advantage of her." As if she'd ever _let _anyone take advantage of her. His voice was low. "She's more than capable of making her own decisions."

"What?" the other guy sneered back. "Like letting you take her out of therapy?"

"I didn't take her out of anything," Chuck growled. "I didn't know about the therapy."

Carter just scoffed.

"And shouldn't you be asking _why_ she stopped going?" Chuck demanded. "Did you even ask her?" Because that, surely, was the more important question.

Carter's mouth twisted. "Are you saying I don't know my own sister, Bass?" There was a note of danger there.

"I'm saying Blair knows what she needs."

"Yeah?" Carter hissed. "Well she sure as hell doesn't need you."

* * *

Blair paused as she came out of the elevator. Because she'd heard his voice. He was _here. _She actually froze for a moment, and was seriously considering turning around and walking straight back out. She still didn't think she could face seeing him.

"I'll have the rest of her stuff picked up today," she heard Carter snap. She felt that cold twist again, because they were talking about her. If anyone was going to talk about her then it would be because of her success or impeccable style or – not this.

"You seriously think she wants to live _here_?" Chuck sounded angry, and some part of Blair clung to the hope, suddenly, that he just wanted her to live with him. So things could go back to how they had been. Just him and her and his penthouse. And Nate and Serena and cocktail nights. No more mentions of the past.

"Well, she's not living with you." Carter sounded flat.

There was a pause; and when Chuck next spoke, she could practically hear him grinding his teeth to keep calm. "There's obviously a reason that she moved out of here in the first place."

And just like that, the coldness was back. She remembered that scornful glint in Evelyn's eye as she'd found her white faced and tear stained in the kitchen. Had she told Chuck? Or had Chuck just worked it out? Had she started _clinging_ to him in her sleep?

Carter was silent.

"Look," Chuck muttered. "If it bothers you that much, then I can stay in the Palace."

Blair's stomach dropped. So there it was. It wasn't even that he wanted to live with her. And she couldn't take it any more. She thrust the dining room doors open, rigid with fury. "No need, Chuck. I'm staying here." She eyed both of them, but those brown eyes burned straight into his.

He felt his own gaze darken. "That's really what you want?" He knew it wasn't. She just glared at him.

"Yes." She was making a point, he realised. She turned away from him then and severed their connection. "I think you should go."

He wanted to tell her that he wasn't going anywhere without her, but Carter looked about three seconds from calling security. And he'd seen that look on her face and he knew she wouldn't listen to him.

"Fine."

But he was still watching her as he left, because this wasn't over. She ignored him.

She waited till she'd heard the elevator doors close before rounding on her brother. "Carter," she said icily. "You are aware that I'm capable of making my own decisions?"

He shoved aside the fact that she'd just echoed Bass's very words, glowering at her instead. "Then do you mind telling me why you lied about therapy?"

"Because I don't need it," she snapped. "Sitting around talking about my feelings? Everyone gets bad dreams. They don't mean anything."

His eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to argue – but the elevator went again at that moment.

"Carter!"

There was a thump as a huge bag was tossed lazily aside, and then Tish's languorous smile as she strode in with a swish of red hair. She was looking predictably gorgeous in a cashmere sweater dress, green to match her slanted eyes. She moved in to kiss both his cheeks.

"Blimey. This place hasn't changed." Max smirked as he glanced around; and his gaze rested hungrily on Blair for a moment. He grinned, flashing those brilliant white teeth. "Beautiful as ever."

Carter was a little too busy realising that keeping his hands off Tish was going to be impossible as ever.

Tish, meanwhile, had turned to kiss Blair. She remembered now – she did like this one. And she remembered something else. "We just saw Chuck leaving," she announced breezily. "With a face like thunder." She actually looked interested. "What on earth have we missed?"

* * *

The black leather of Chuck's sofa was nowhere near as inviting without Blair's bare skin against it. The scotch bottle at his side was the poorest of substitutes. It had only been two days since she was last here, and already his penthouse felt empty.

He'd never let her go that easily. He'd sensed an edge to her – something that went beyond embarrassment or anger. Beyond her staying in her damn apartment just to spite him. He was going to get her to speak to him, and he was going to get her back.

He glanced down as heard his phone buzz. And his grip tightened on his glass instantly. Evelyn. No doubt calling to find out how it was going with Blair. He paused for only a moment before he rejected the call. He was surprised at that kick of bitter satisfaction. He drained the last of his drink and got to his feet. Because he was going to get Blair back. Or at the very least, back into this apartment.

* * *

It was late morning at the Waldorf penthouse, breakfast piled up on the dining room table that Max was attacking with great gusto. Tish lounged against her chair in one of Blair's sheer nightgowns – far too short for her – and didn't even bother to pretend to eat. She'd moaned to Blair only the other night that all this American food was making her _obese. (_But she was quite happy to pick at sweets throughout the day, if they took her fancy.)

"It really was far too long," she sighed. She and Max had spent the previous day at her uncle's funeral. "I mean, obviously very tragic. But did they really need _five _eulogies? And poor Toby was shaking so much he could hardly finish his. They shouldn't have made him read anything."

"He won't be poor after all he inherits all of daddy dearest's company," Max pointed out through a mouthful of pancakes. He'd met Toby a few times – enough to know that, like his cousin, he definitely did not have a mind for business. Which was exactly why Tish's father had sent Max over with her. Someone about to come into that much money needed...guidance. "So," he grinned. "What's the plan for tonight? Are we getting the lads in?"

Tish pulled a face. "Do we _have_ to have a poker night? It's such a boring game."

Carter knew that Tish was actually a pretty good player – when she bothered to remember the rules. He'd taught her himself. With certain favours as bribes, of course, or she'd never have stayed interested for that long.

Max laughed. "I'm sure you girls can think of something to do." His eyes rested on Blair, as they'd done several times over the past week. He did wonder if she was a virgin. Had Chuck managed to tap that? He rather liked the view anyway – even if she was wearing more than Tish.

Blair pretended not to see his gaze. "I have plans with Serena." Her best friend had promised her a girly night out, and she couldn't wait. She needed it.

At that, Tish's face fell. "Not that awful blonde? Please," she groaned. "Stay here with me. You know how boring the boys get." And, as an idea occurred to her, "Chuck will be here."

"No," Carter snapped. "He won't."

"What?" Max protested. "It's not a game without Bass!"

"I'm sure he has better things to do." Carter refused to look at Blair.

Tish threw him a faintly disapproving look. She was not impressed – and she suspected Blair wasn't either. No one liked a cock-blocker.

* * *

"S!" Penelope managed to catch Serena as she came out of library. Although, judging from the disarray of her clothes, she and Nate had been doing anything but studying. Penelope had already tipped off Gossip Girl. If only Serena, Nate and sex were something novel. "Are you ready for tonight?" she smiled.

The blonde looked at her blankly. "Tonight?"

"Hamilton House drinks! Don't tell me you forgot?"

"Um...of course not!" Serena tried to cover up the highly unconvincing lie with a radiant smile. "It's just," she worried her lip, "Blair and I already made plans..."

"But I've already spoken to Blair, and she said she couldn't wait." Penelope was a far better liar than Serena would ever be.

The blonde paused. "She did?"

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "She didn't tell you?"

"She probably didn't get the chance," Serena admitted. She had, after all, been a little occupied in the library for the past couple of hours. "But...that's great! So I'll see you then."

"Seven o'clock," the other girl smirked. "Meet on the steps." She was still smirking as she watched an oblivious Serena leave. The blonde had been inactive for too long. Sometimes you had to take the initiative yourself.

* * *

Blair was supposed to have been meeting Serena at eight. At quarter past eight, she was still sitting in the bar at Butter by herself. But then, she hadn't really expected her best friend to be on time. She was about to send her a text to tell her to get a move on, when she received one of her own. From Gossip Girl.

There was a picture of the Hamilton House steps, a group of girls sharing cocktails, and one blonde raising her glass with a bright grin. A bright grin that made Blair feel physically sick.

_Spotted : S making an impression. And some new friends. Looks like it really is that easy to leave B behind..._

Blair was gripping her phone so tightly now she barely noticed when it started ringing. Serena. She pressed reject and dropped the cell onto the bar. Had Serena just forgotten? She felt like everyone in the room was looking at her now. Her hands were shaking.

Her phone buzzed again; Serena kept ringing. Finally Blair snatched it up. "What?"

"B!" Serena sounded tipsy on top of everything else. There was girls' laughter in the background. So she was having a great time, Blair thought savagely._"_Where _are _you?" Serena demanded. "Penelope said you might be late, but it's been an hour! We're headed to Milk and Honey now. Come!"

Blair tried not to flinch at the _we – _and then her eyes narrowed. Penelope? _Penelope_. Of all the transparent, pathetic schemes. "I'll be there in five," she bit. And when she got there, she was going to destroy the bitch.

* * *

Chuck tried not to snarl in frustration as he scanned the bar one more time. But there was no sign of her. The Gossip Girl blast that had shown her sitting alone in Butter – in a particularly delicious sequinned dress, hair pulled partially back – had only been fifteen minutes ago. The time it had taken him to get here from his penthouse. Where had she gone? He was about to leave when something caught his eye. Or rather, someone. Someone with slicked back dirty blond hair, and someone he recognised.

Damien. Damien Dalgaard. He was just coming through the door – and he seemed to be looking for someone too. He was also just as sleazy as Chuck remembered. Chuck's lip curled. He wondered, briefly, if Blair had actually made plans with him. Surely not. Anyway, Chuck Bass was the only person allowed to stalk her. He slipped out of the bar before the creep could see him.

* * *

"B!" Serena was clearly several martinis down as she leapt up from the table. "Finally! Where have you been?"

They were all sitting cosily in the bar, Penelope at the head of the table. She didn't look very pleased to see Blair. Blair just gave her an icy look. "Why don't you ask Penelope?"

Serena looked between them, a little confused. "Anyway – you're here now! We're just about to play Never Have I Ever."

Seriously? That awful game_ again_? Blair had no inclination of playing with Penelope either. "I think I'll pass."

Penelope smirked. "I think that's a good idea."

Blair looked at her, and a hard gleam entered her eyes. Penelope tried not to swallow. "You know what?" Blair said coolly. "I'll play."

Serena was delighted, of course. "I'll get you a drink!"

* * *

Tish was bored. As expected. Max always concentrated far too hard on poker. He seemed as laid-back and easy-going as she was about everything else; but when it came to money, that grin got dangerous. When it came to money, Tish stopped existing. Tish just got in the way. But her idea of a fun evening was not watching a group of men focus on cards instead of her.

She sighed as she helped herself to more champagne from the Waldorf kitchen. Looked like she'd be getting drunk by herself, then.

"What are you doing here all alone?"

She felt herself smile, idly, as Carter's hands crept around her waist. "Darling," she moaned. "Max is just in the other room. He'll get so annoyed..."

"The only thing Max'll be aware for the next two hours is what card he gets dealt with," Carter smirked into her neck as he kissed her. God, he'd missed this. Tish's wonderfully lithe body curled around his seemed to drain all the tension out of him. Everything was so _easy _with her. And she was so good in bed.

"Carter," she sighed as her arms twined around him. "This really must be the last time." She kissed him, tongue lazily exploring his mouth. He did love the way she kissed him. "You're so bad..."

He was already leading her upstairs, champagne bottle between them. His own room was dangerously close to the stairs, and had some of Max's stuff in it; so he led her further back, into a room he knew no one would enter. He realised that he needed this.

* * *

"Never have I ever...had sex in a moving vehicle."

Blair tried very hard not to choke on her martini. Not even Serena drank to that one – which Blair actually found surprising. Maybe she and Nate were so busy having sex in other places that the limo was where they took their breaks. Blair couldn't drink, of course – and that had _never_ happened in this game. She'd also had to stop herself from drinking for sex in a public place, sex on a rooftop (one time); in fact, most things sex related.

But she wasn't prepared for the next one.

A particularly soppy freshman raised her glass, sniffing. "Never have I ever been in love!"

Blair went very still. Serena smiled and drank. Blair tried to keep her cheeks cool. Because she'd been about to drink too. And she realised Serena was looking at her like she knew. Blair wasn't sure if she could handle that. She prayed for someone else to come up with something else inane, fast.

"Never have I ever...had sex. At all." Penelope spoke with some satisfaction. She'd been watching Blair throughout the game, and she'd noticed that the girl had barely drunk to anything. And while some part of her had envied that sudden quiet primness, the other part had been desperate to drag her down. They'd all spent most of high school inventing ever wilder stories to keep up with Serena. Even after she'd got together with Nate, they'd needed to make sure their sexual prowess matched hers. And it looked like Blair's didn't. Surely, _surely_ that was something Penelope could use against her?

Because everyone at the table was drinking now.

Serena had sensed Blair stiffen at her side and tried to give her a reassuring smile – to show her that it didn't matter, and no one cared – but all Blair could see shining through the blonde's eyes was sympathy, and Penelope was still smirking on her other side.

So Blair drank.

* * *

Milk and Honey. Finally. Jesus, Gossip Girl was off the game tonight. Why was the bitch never all-seeing when you needed her to be? Chuck climbed into his limo and told Arthur to step on it.

* * *

"Blair." Serena had pulled her best friend aside, quietly. Penelope was looking thoroughly put-out that she hadn't managed to scare Blair off, and was drinking more to try and make herself feel better. "Look, about tonight-"

"What about it?" Blair snapped.

"You don't have to lie." Serena was so gentle and Blair couldn't stand it. "Just be yourself, and the girls will love you."

Blair literally couldn't stand it. She _was _trying to be herself. She was Blair Waldorf. She didn't need Serena to tell her that. "Well, as much as I appreciate your condescending attempt at a pep-talk," - was it the martinis, making her words slip out so nastily? - "Who says I was lying?"

Serena stared at her for a moment. "Come on," she tried to laugh. "You haven't-"

"I have." Blair's eyes were cold.

The blonde's gaze widened. "With...Chuck?" She still didn't look like she could quite believe it.

"I don't know why you're so surprised. We're meant to be together, aren't we? Isn't this just what you wanted?"

"Blair," Serena choked. "I...I wanted Chuck to admit his feelings for you. I wanted you to have a healthy relationship. Not-"

"Not what?" Blair hissed.

"Have you been sleeping with him all this time?" Serena look genuinely horrified.

"What if I have?" Blair demanded back.

Her best friend swallowed. "You can't just rush into sex-"

"Oh, like you didn't?"

A shadow crossed those blue eyes, but Serena didn't flinch. "Yes, I did. And that's how I know that it was a mistake. But you're not me. And I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did."

"Right, because obviously I could never be anything like _you._" Blair was almost yelling, and she didn't even know why. Because Serena was telling her she'd made a mistake?

"You don't do things like this," Serena plead. "B, you're worrying me." She stared at her best friend. "Did you sleep with him to prove some kind of point? Because you don't need to. We love you-"

"Did it ever occur to you," Blair asked furiously, "That maybe I just slept with him because I _wanted _to?"

"Fine," Serena said, soft. "But this is Chuck. Deny it all you want - I know how you feel about him. You can't just start sleeping with him and pretend it doesn't matter and that's all you want. You're going to end up getting hurt."

Blair realised she was almost shaking. "It's sex, Serena," she spat.

"You don't _need _to try to keep up with him. You're Blair Waldorf. That's enough."

Blair didn't know why those words finally made her snap. _Keeping up_ and _Blair Waldorf; _she wasn't supposed to be _trying _to do anything. Nobody was meant to see you _try. _(And being Blair Waldorf wasn't enough because Serena was wrong and she still didn't feel like she _was_ that girl).

"You know what else I don't need? You, telling me what to do." Her face was very white as she turned away from her best friend. She couldn't take this any more. Her legs were still shaking as she stalked out of the bar.

Penelope snapped out of her sulking long enough to snap a picture of the obviously fighting best friends and send it to Gossip Girl. She felt quite pleased with herself now. She'd also managed to catch the gist of their argument, and...well, she was so excited she literally didn't know what to do with the information. Chuck and Blair, sleeping together? _This _was why they needed a queen. So she had someone to report these kind of gossip bombs to. And Serena, she realised, no longer counted.

* * *

"What the hell is going on?"

Chuck couldn't _believe _he'd managed to miss Blair again. He'd seen the blast all right – their fight, splashed all over Gossip Girl. Thankfully Serena was still here.

Or perhaps not so thankfully, as the blonde rounded on him. "How could you do that to her?"

Jesus, what was he supposed to have done _this _time? "I've been a bit too busy trying to get Waldorf to speak to me to sleep with anyone else," he growled. "So let me save you some time and tell me that whatever you think you heard-"

Serena whacked him. "I know _exactly _who you've been sleeping with, Chuck!" Those blue eyes narrowed on him. "Blair told me about the two of you."

His own eyes slanted back. "And why is this suddenly all my fault? I hate to break it to you, but that amount of amazing sex usually requires two willing participants." He was getting a bit sick of having to remind people that Blair was, in fact, capable of going after what she wanted.

Serena glared. "And you don't think she deserves more than being your dirty little secret?"

"Well," Chuck managed to smirk, "She's definitely dirty." Did she deserve to be _his_ anything? Did he deserve her at all? He was far more _her_ dirty little secret than the other way around, and with good reason.

The blonde was not amused. "Really, Chuck?" She sounded disgusted as she went to turn away.

"Serena." Chuck had suddenly moved after her. "Where is she?" His voice was tight and he wasn't smirking any more.

"I don't know," Serena sighed. "She's mad and she obviously doesn't want my advice. She probably went home."

Chuck seriously hoped she had.

* * *

Blair got back to find the penthouse in disarray. The poker game was semi-forgotten, glasses and half-dressed girls sprawled around the Waldorf living room. Max glanced up from his own shitty hand (his luck was running out) long enough for his face to brighten as he saw her. What a perfect excuse.

"Finally," he chirped. "A girl with some class."

Blair rolled her eyes at him and stepped out of his hold. She wasn't in the mood. She wanted – she didn't know what she wanted. She wanted these people out of here. She wanted to curl up in bed, but the thought of her room still filled her with dread. Because fear in the night had no concept of pride. She wanted to be Blair Waldorf; but most of all she wanted to just _be _her without having to repeat it over and over. She wanted to go back to being the girl Chuck had seemed awed by.

She ignored Max's protests as she headed upstairs. She'd have to face her room sooner or later. It wasn't till she was in the room, though, that she heard the noises. And for a moment she was genuinely frozen with fear. They weren't coming from downstairs.

The noises were coming from a room further back. Upstairs. There was only one room behind hers. A room that no one ever went into any more. She moved out, slowly, and padded along the landing. She paused outside the door. Who the hell would be in her parents' room?

That was when she distinguished the sounds as moans.

"Carter...yes..."

She felt bile rise in her throat as she fled. She didn't need any help throwing up in her bathroom this time. Carter. Carter was having sex in their dead parents' room. So it was fine for Carter to do whatever the hell he wanted. Just not her. And part of her was crushed for even caring so much. Clearly Carter had moved on – the room hadn't been Eleanor and Harold's for seven years, so why did _she _care so much? Why did Carter get to stay here and be just like he always had, while she'd been at boarding school _alone _and getting left further and further behind and further and further away from the person she was supposed to be?

If he'd never interrupted her and Chuck that day then Blair would still be on the right path. If he'd never brought up that stupid first summer – if he'd never sent her to damn boarding school in the first place, then she'd have gone to Constance and known Penelope and learnt to deal with Serena and proven to all of them that Blair Waldorf did not run away. Then she might have got used to living in this penthouse. Then Chuck would have existed as more than emails and phone calls and a longing for a smirk and an ache -

Fine.

She didn't want any of it to matter any more. _She _controlled her future. No one else. Not any more. She would not be weak and she would not be pitied and she would not _need_ anyone.

Max looked delighted when she came back downstairs. Now he could actually toss his hand down. One of the guys went to protest that he owed them money; he was happily ignored.

"Can I get you a drink, beautiful?"

She walked straight past him and opened their parents' liquor cabinet herself. Carter had clearly been helping himself over the years so it was as much her alcohol as it was his. If he got to act like their parents had never happened, then so did she. She got to _forget_.

"Shots?" Max grinned. He was already lining up the glasses.

The vodka burned her empty stomach and its bitter kick filled her with satisfaction. She slanted her eyes at him. Max would do, she decided coldly.

* * *

Chuck found the penthouse in the same state of disarray. Obviously, he hadn't been invited to the game this year. But if Carter was otherwise occupied then he was going to get Blair to talk to him -

And that was when he saw her.

Still in that sequinned dress, curled on Max's lap. That was enough to make his jaw tighten unbearably. But then she turned and looked at him, and the gleam in her eyes was one of satisfaction. Icy. And she kissed Max.

"Waldorf." Chuck came to a stop in front of them, resisting the urge to wrap his hands around Max's neck as he forced back the furious lump in his throat. He looked at her instead, and he wanted her so much he was having difficulty breathing. "What are you doing?"

She gazed up evenly. "Having the time of my life. Thanks." Max was kissing her neck now.

Chuck's lip curled and it came out a hiss as he fought not to lose it. "With_ him_?"

Max had his own lips buried in her collar bone as he raised an inoocent eyebrow. "What's wrong with me?" She couldn't be a virgin, he realised; not from the way Chuck was looking at her. Excellent.

They both ignored him.

"This is hardly your scene," he told her, flat. He was searching her face and she could feel the burn of those dark eyes. "And you and I both know you can do better."

Her heated gaze flickered over him, and her mouth was set. "Can I?"

She arched her back as Max went to kiss her again; arched her back in the same way she did when Chuck kissed her, and her eyes were narrowed. Her face was too pale.

"This isn't you," he hissed.

She went cold. She suddenly pushed Max off – Max made a noise of complaint – and glared blankly at Chuck. "How would you know, exactly?" She didn't wait for an answer because she didn't want to hear it. She pushed past both of them and disappeared.

She got as far as the kitchen before Chuck had caught hold of her arm, pulling her round to face him. It was just the two of them in the room now. "What's going on?" he demanded. He'd seen that edge in her the other day; and now it was like she'd snapped.

"_Nothing_," she seethed.

"Don't tell me nothing," he spat back. "What are you doing, Waldorf?"

The name cut her just like everything else. _Waldorf. _Was she really the Waldorf he'd known before all of it went to hell? She was trying to be that girl and it wasn't working because he was still asking her what she was doing and telling her _this wasn't her_. And those dark eyes gleamed burnt gold and his face was so close and she felt like he was cutting off her air supply.

"Excactly what I want." She stared up at him and struggled to swallow. Her face had suddenly closed off and he could see it. "I'm bored, Chuck." Her voice was a very soft sneer. "And the truth is...I don't want you any more." Her eyes met his. "This whole thing was a mistake."

His shoulders stiffened. "I don't believe you." His voice was very low and his face blank; but his eyes were black now. "You're lying." He went to reach for her - and she shoved him away. Jerked out of his hold.

"I don't _want _you." Her gaze burned dark with hatred. She didn't _want _to want him because it hurt too much. She didn't want to want Serena or her old life or any of it any more. She'd rather he hated her. She'd rather he hated her, because anything was better than pity. She'd rather he hated her than realise she'd been pretending all this time. Pretending to be someone she coudn't be - someone she didn't know how to be any more. "Just get out."

He was white and his jaw was still clenched. She'd fooled him, she realised, the hardest and the longest. He'd believed her own propaganda even longer than she had. Because he'd never turned up that summer? He'd stayed away and obviously managed to convince himself, just like she had, that the girl who'd had to be dragged out of the sea and packed off to boarding school was in the past. And she didn't think she'd be able to handle it once he realised the truth. Because the truth was that she didn't even know who Blair Waldorf _was _any more.

She would not be that weak, not in front of him. Not ever.

She watched as he turned and walked out. And then, slowly, she slid down against the counter and closed her eyes. The poker party was still going on in the other room; no doubt Carter and Tish were still at it upstairs. She suddenly felt unbearably, suffocatingly lonely as her eyes blurred with tears. She choked savagely. Worse than lonely. She felt _disgusted - _and disgusted at no one but herself.


	13. Chapter 13

_'Save me from the sequiturs_

_I'll pretend I didn't hear_

_Can't you see I'm a ghost in the wrong coat_

_Biting butter an crumbs?'_

* * *

The next morning, cell phones across the Upper East Side beeped with as a single blast was sent out over breakfast.

_We've all been wondering why C hasn't been seen without B since she got back, and it turns out that this year's worst kept secret is nothing but the truth. Our favourite pair may not have made it official, but it looks like they've been busy sealing the deal - perhaps just not in the way their families meant. From boarding school to Bass's bed? Classy, B._

"Chuck!"

Chuck was interupted from a morning of scotch as Serena stuck her head round his bedroom door. She was clutching her cell and her blonde hair was tousled, clearly agonized about something.

"Did you read Gossip Girl? Where did this even come from?"

Slowly, Chuck picked up his own phone. He'd been ignoring it since last night. His eyes narrowed as he read the blast for himself. Serena was still gazing at him like she wanted an answer. "Well," he murmured drily. "She won't be very happy about this." He wasn't really even addressing Serena as he wondered if she'd choked over her morning tea reading it. She wouldn't be able to pretend it had never happened now. He glanced at the text again. _Sealing the deal._

"Was this you?" Serena demanded. Blair hadn't come back to the apartment. Chuck had spent most of last night getting drunk. It didn't take a genius to work out they'd had some kind of fight.

Chuck just gave her a look. "Why would_ I_ do this?" he enquired. "Just a shot in dark, but I'd say it was the same person who tried to haze Blair from Hamilton House drinks." He'd seen who else was at the bar last night.

"What?"

Serena was frowning, and he snorted. "Please." Almost weary. "Don't tell me you don't recognise a Constance trick when you see one."

The blonde stared. "Penelope."

Chuck just rolled his eyes. But Serena was already heading out the door, a sudden set to her jaw. Chuck picked up his phone again and sent a text of his own to Gossip Girl. This one detailing exactly what Penelope had got up to with her cello teacher throughout high school - he'd known the dirt would come in handy some day.

And then his phone was ringing, and his eyes narrowed again - this time in hatred - when he saw who it was.

"What?" he snarled as he picked up. Evelyn might actually bring herself to visit him if he kept rejecting her calls.

"Darling." Her voice was a murmur over the line, but there was a note of danger underneath. "I just went to visit the Waldorfs...and Carter seems to be under the impression that Blair is now living with him again."

"That's because she is," Chuck grit back.

"Is that wise, given her condition?"

Chuck's jaw clenched. "She's fine." She wasn't exactly fine, and he knew it - but he couldn't stand the sneer in Evelyn's voice. _Her condition. _And just because Blair hated living in that penthouse didn't mean she couldn't - or wouldn't. She'd stay until she felt she'd proved her point. Even longer, if she was that desperate not to live with him any more.

"Charles." It was little more than a purr now, seething with soft irritation. "I'm surprised you're not more concerned. The impression I got from Carter was that you don't care at all - and I think you know that's not the impression that will win anyone over. Have you forgotten how important it is to show certain people you're serious?"

And by certain people, he knew, she meant the board at Bass Industries.

"I haven't seen you making any effort at all," Evelyn pressed silkily. "You were supposed to be committed by the time you got back from the Hamptons. Like your father keeps saying," she sneered, "Summer is over. This might have washed when you were still at school, but we don't have time now for daily updates on your sex life while Blair runs all over the Upper East Side." The cold malice had entered. "Do you understand me, sweetheart?" Chuck's grip had tightened on the phone; Evelyn ignored his silence. "You need to take better care of her."

"I don't think," Chuck said acidly, "That she wants to be taken care of."

There was a pause before Evelyn spoke again, and this time it was dripping, gentle, full of menace. He'd pushed her. "If you lose Blair, then you're the only one who'll pay the consequences. You and your miserable father. You do remember that, don't you? If you take away my other options, then I'll have no choice but to drag Barthlomew down with me. And then your father will be disgraced and you won't have a penny." She sighed quietly. "Darling. Do I need to tell you again?"

"Blair doesn't want me." It came out cold and viscious; because some part of him, somewhere, knew that that couldn't be true. Because it was _them._Because she'd wanted him just last week and Blair Waldorf did not get _bored_. And if she really didn't want him -

"Then you make her want you." Evelyn's voice cut. "It's not hard, Charles. Three little words and she'll do whatever you want. That," she snorted, "Even worked for your father."

Chuck hung up, furious, and tossed his phone to the floor where he didn't have to look at it any more. But his jaw was rigid and his eyes burned for a moment. Hollow.

* * *

Penelope was happily gossiping with the other Hamilton House girls when the door opened and Serena appeared. For a moment she was framed in the light from outside, tall and truly terrifying as those blue eyes landed on just Penelope.

"I know what you did to Blair," she announced, very coldly. She blazed over Penelope's attempts to deny it. "You might not know Blair very well, but I can tell you one thing about her. If you push her, then she'll push back." Her arms were folded as she stared the other down from her full height. "And when she does, I'll be right behind her. So don't even try it."

Penelope blanched a bit. She'd forgotten that Serena could be quite so intimidating when she turned it on. Still, she tried to bolster herself by glancing round at the other girls. "We're not in high school any more, S. You're not queen here. You don't scare me."

Serena's mouth curved, just that faint bit. Her arms were still folded. "If you cross Blair again, then I'm not the one you need to be scared of." She gave Penelope a final look before she swept out.

* * *

She was supposed to be meeting Nate afterwards; he happily pulled her into his arms to kiss her, but he'd seen all the blasts and Chuck's state and Blair's empty room too.

"So what did I miss last night?" he asked as they took one of the benches on Columbia's campus. He'd already bought her favourite yoghurt and was tucking into his own.

Serena pulled a face, opening the container. "I had a fight with Blair. A pretty big one." She paused. "I just...I feel like all we've done since we got back from the Hamptons is fight. Over Chuck, over Columbia..." She didn't know what she was trying to say. Partially, that she was worried about Blair - but also that she hadn't realised it would be this hard. She'd been so excited about her best friend coming back that she hadn't even imagined they'd argue. Did that make her a bad person, she wondered? Was it a sign that maybe she and Blair weren't as good friends as they'd always believed? The thought of that made her feel ten times worse. She loved Blair, and that couldn't be true.

But to her surprise, Nate chuckled.

"What?" She couldn't stop her own faint smile, half indignation. "How is this funny, Archibald?"

"It's not," he grinned. "Just reminds me of the old days."

Serena blinked at him. "The old days?"

"You and Blair _always_ used to fight, Serena. You drove each other crazy half the time - clothes and toys and tea parties...I mean, me and Chuck probably deserve a Nobel Prize for how much negotiation we had to do between you."

"We weren't that bad," Serena protested, mouth twitching a little at the memory - because maybe they had been. "But," she admitted, "I thought we'd grown up."

"No," Nate assured her, cheeky, "You just haven't spent longer than a month together since. Besides," he added; and his tone was a little gentler as he nudged her, those blue eyes sparkling. "You're always there for each other when it counts. That hasn't changed."

Serena's face softened. "No." No - she would always be there for her best friend. And she couldn't imagine Blair not being there for her either. She smiled, reluctant, as she nudged him back. "When did you get so smart?"

"It's the pot," he explained, and they both grinned.

"You know what we need to do?" Serena sighed. But her gaze was determined now, and Nate already knew what she was going to say.

He stood up, offering her his hand. His tone was just as firm as hers.

"Bring Blair home."

* * *

Tish stretched idly on Carter's bed. Max was out dealing with 'business' - Carter suspected he'd more likely stayed the night at some girl's house, since he'd disappeared from the poker night by the time they'd emerged - so they didn't have to worry about getting caught this morning. He'd thrown Evelyn out as quickly as possible so he could get back to bed with Tish.

"What time are they reading the will?" Carter enquired as he explored her neck slowly with his mouth.

"Not till twelve," she drawled, running lazy fingers through his hair. She did like how delightfully mussed it was in the morning. "I hope it doesn't take too long."

"My parents' took two hours," Carter muttered. His lip twisted a little as his hand traced her bare hip. "But I doubt anyone else would leave instructions as precise as my mother's." It was a throwaway comment, like always.

"Did they leave you everything?" Tish asked with vague interest. She wasn't particularly concerned when it came to herself, but she was aware her father cared whether or not her uncle left everything to his son. He'd told her it was important, anyway. Quite a few times. Any time she'd asked Max he told her not to worry her sexy little head about it.

"Me and Blair."

Tish tilted her head. "I suppose that's the downside of having a sibling," she sighed. "Though at least yours is nice," she added as an afterthought. She looked mildly entertained as something else occurred to her. "So who gets this place if either of you get married? Sounds very complicated, if you ask me."

"Well," Carter smirked wryly, "First of all, I don't intend on getting married for a very long time." Because then he wouldn't get to do this, he reflected as his fingers slid over Tish's thigh and up her barely-there slip.

Tish made a noise of contentment as his touch reached its destination, arching the long curve of her back for a moment. "Mmm. But you'd make a very good husband, darling. And I'd rather like to go to your wedding."

Carter rolled his eyes.

But Tish actually was quite intrigued by the idea of Carter in love. And he probably would make quite a good husband, she reflected - he took good care of his sister, who he obviously loved. Plus he was fantastic in bed.

"Besides," her lips pursed a little as she reflected on his sister and the rather fascinating development she'd seen in Ibizia with Chuck, "I'm sure Blair will get married soon."

That did make Carter glower. He sincerely hoped she wasn't referring to Chuck. No way in hell was his eighteen year-old sister getting married 'soon'. "Technically the penthouse is in my name," he growled. "Blair got the majority share in Waldorf Designs, and I got all the property." So Chuck would _not _be seizing their home to make a little love nest for him and Blair. Although he doubted his sister would want the penthouse anyway.

At that, Tish perked up. "The clothing line? Sounds like she got the better end of the deal there. I used to _love _Waldorf Designs...I had the most gorgeous Eleanor Waldorf orginal," she sighed. "It cost nearly as much as my second pony." She paused as she thought about it. "So your sister really is quite the catch. Lucky Chuck."

Carter scowled. "She won't get it till she's twenty one. No one knows about this, anyway." For precisely that reason - he and Blair had decided no one would know until Blair took the reins herself. There had been no point in putting that much pressure on an eleven year-old.

And _lucky Chuck _wouldn't be getting anything. Basstard.

* * *

Blair had dressed with a new, resigned sense of purpose. She wasn't going to sit around wondering how to be Blair Waldorf any more - she'd already shown herself that she didn't know how. So she would go back to doing what she_ did_ know. She would throw herself into Columbia and get the best grades and graduate as the best student to give herself the best future. And she would get the best internship, which was why she currently poring over carefully arranged application forms. She wanted something that she could devote all her energy to. Something that would challenge her. Something that would help her get to the top. She'd decided on applying to fashion magazines, because what better way to prepare her for the company that would eventually pass to her? (Because the truth was that she'd never be a designer like her mother).

She'd even dressed the part - hair carefully curled, crisp pink pencil skirt with a cream cardigan and tight floral blouse. As long as she acted like she knew and looked like she knew then there wouldn't be a problem. More nightmares last night; but fine. She was used to them. She'd dealt with them by herself for the past six years and she would continue to do so.

The awful blast about her and Chuck had just confirmed it. _Classy. _Well, she was going to get that class back. She was going to go back what she actually knew, and stop trying to be something she wasn't. And she ignored how heavy it made her heart, the dull weight; because at least she was safe with the devil she knew.

She wished it wasn't quite so silent in her room.

But she forced herself to focus on filling out the forms. That was all that mattered. She already had the glowing references from Canterbury Accademy, so -

"B?"

There was a hesitant knock and her bedroom door was pushed open, revealing two very sheepish looking blondes. Blair wished her heart didn't soar quite so much just at the sight of them. She remembered herself as she remembered her conversation with Serena the night before, stiffening a little.

"Serena. Nate." She swallowed. "To...what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I wanted to say sorry for last night," Serena admitted. "I shouldn't have judged you for Chuck."

Blair wished she didn't even have to hear his name. But then, she realised - she needed to move past this. Past Chuck. They'd managed to be friends of a sort while she was in boarding school; she knew how to do that. Couldn't they go back to that?

"I-"

She was cut off as all their phones went simultaneously.

"Wow," Nate muttered. "She's going crazy with these blasts." Gossip Girl, of course.

Blair's eyes widened a little as she read all the sordid details of Penelope's musical affair. Details, frankly, that she'd rather not have know. Gossip Girl had got a tad enthusiastic with cello puns and double entendres.

"Oh," Serena added guiltily. "And I also realised what you were saying about Penelope may have been right..."

Blair stared at her. "Did you do this?" she asked in amazement as she held up her phone. But Serena looked equally confused.

"No. I almost wish I had though." Blair couldn't help it; she grinned faintly at her best friend. In gratitude and an odd mix of pride - because it took a lot for Serena to be deliberately malicious. "It must have been Chuck," Serena frowned.

Blair stilled. Chuck had done this?

But then only Chuck would come up with something this brilliant. Of course it had been Chuck. She forced away the pang that made her feel - an actual lump in her throat, because there was nothing she loved more than revenge; nothing _they _loved more.

"Probably thought that last blast made him sound whipped," Blair muttered hastily. _C hasn't been seen without B since she got back _- didn't exactly help his playboy image.

Serena and Nate just exchanged a glance.

"Anyway," Blair managed. "I'm sorry too."

Serena looked relieved as she wrapped the smaller girl in a hug. She glanced at Nate again, and they both gave each other quick smiles. "That's not the only reason we came." She gazed down at her best friend. "B, you can't live here."

"Serena-"

"No," Serena cut her off. "I need you! What happened to all of us living together?"

Blair closed her eyes for a second. "I'm not exactly on the best terms with Chuck right now." To put it mildly.

But Serena had grabbed her hands. "I don't care. I _need _you, B." And if Chuck's moping and drinking ever since she'd left had been anything to go by, he did too. Serena refused to give up on her two best friends. Even if they had been sleeping together behind her back. "You can't leave me alone with two boys," she added, winningly.

"Just because you and Chuck are...you know, doesn't mean you can cut_ us_ out," Nate agreed. Blair tried not to wince at _you and Chuck. _Because her and Chuck were what, exactly?

"I'm not cutting you out-" she attempted.

"So move back into your room," Serena begged before she could go on. "Please?"

And Blair wanted to live with them. The problem was that she didn't know how to keep up with them. She wanted everything to be neat - she either was Blair Waldorf or she wasn't. She had her old life or she didn't. She needed boundaries.

(But she needed her best friend too).

And, as ever, Serena was practically impossible to resist. But living that close to Chuck -

"I can't imagine Chuck will want me there," she said drily, an attempt to keep her voice light. He had no reason to. "And it is his place." She was never usually this reasonable - the truth was that the idea of living with him again, after everything that had happened, terrified her. How was she supposed to go back to boarding school Blair with him watching her every move? And he really_ wouldn't_ want her there.

Nate opened his mouth to say that that was quite obviously untrue, but Serena beat him to it.

"You don't know that. You need to talk to him."

Before Blair could argue, the door had opened again and Carter appeared. He didn't bother greeting Nate or Serena. "Tish and I are going out to lunch. You coming?"

"I'll pass," Blair said sweetly. Icily.

Her brother narrowed his eyes at her.

Serena and Nate exchanged another glance - bemused this time - because they hadn't seen Blair and Carter fight in a long time. Not like this. They teased each other and wound each other up, but Blair was never this cold with him. They were Waldorfs, after all.

But Carter walked out and Blair ignored him.

She turned to her best friends instead. "Ok," she said, like Carter had never interupted. There was a hard light in her eyes. "I'll talk to Chuck."

* * *

Blair had to force herself into the car with Nate and Serena and into the elevator up to the apartment. She wouldn't have been all that surprised if Chuck threw her out anyway. She highly doubted he wanted to see her. She steeled herself as they entered the living room - Chuck was lounging on the couch with a sheaf of papers; he wasn't in a suit, so Bart obviously wasn't back yet.

Nate and Serena looked at each other warily. Chuck was watching Blair. He said nothing, eyes slanted.

Nate cleared his throat. "So we'll just, um...be in the other room." The two of them managed not to stare back at their best friends, though they were clearly desperate to, as they made their exit.

Leaving Chuck and Blair alone.

Blair let out a short breath and forced herself towards Chuck. She perched on the arm of the sofa and tried not to remember the last time they'd had sex on the very same surface. Her gaze slipped up his pale pink shirt to that dark gaze. His dark hair was ruffled like he'd just got out of bed, but the scotch bottle at his side told a different story.

His lip curled as he followed her eyes. "Want some?" It was half a sneer. Because his heart had somehow ended up in his throat just seeing her, back in his penthouse, and she'd never looked more adorably put-together. He wanted her _back. _He also wanted to know what the hell was going on with her. Her flawless make up did nothing to hide the fact that she'd clearly got no sleep last night. As expected.

"No. Thank you." It came out tight, clipped and too polite - like she was speaking to someone she barely knew. Instead of someone whose same thick dark hair she'd had her hands buried in just last week. Instead of _Chuck,_ who she knew better than she knew anyone. Instead of the person she'd told she didn't want just last night. She folded her hands in her neat little lap, spine still rigid. "I...Serena and Nate said they wanted me to move back in."

He looked at her flatly. "And what do you want?"

_Apart from not me? _But it was too ragged in his chest.

She swallowed. "I want to move back in. As long as it's not a problem for you."

Chuck appraised her in silence. His mouth curved. "I was under the impression you didn't want to be anywhere near me, Waldorf. You changed your mind already?" He was challenging her.

Blair exhaled. "I want us...to be friends."

"Friends?" His lip curled again - and with good reason, she knew. Who had she been kidding? This was Chuck. "That's not what you were saying last week," he said, very quietly. He couldn't stand it; seeing her so close, and suddenly so far away on the stupid couch. His voice was heated. "What changed?" He sat up so that he was leaning into her, trapping her against the arm as his eyes tracked hers. "You're not bipolar, Waldorf - how can you suddenly decide you_don't want me_?" The therapy coming out - Carter catching them - what _was _it?

Blair's breath caught because he was too close. She realised, then, that she needed to do this. She needed to draw a line. Because Chuck _terrified _her. She needed him to see that Blair Waldorf was long gone - and she needed him to see it fast, so that there were no expectations and nothing for her to fail. So she had to push him away first.

"Carter catching us...made me realise that this was a mistake." She lifted her eyes to his, willing him to believe her.

"You're the one who set all the boundaries for this," he growled. "You're the one who wanted no strings attached."

"Like you didn't want the same," she shot back, forgetting herself for a second. There was an odd look in his eyes. She thought he was going to say something - but his mouth remained closed, so she forced herself to ignore it. "I just want things to go back to the way they were before I got back." When she knew the way everything was supposed to be.

"Waldorf," he said, bitterly. She was so close now that he could smell her, the hot scent of her body - she wasn't being serious, was she? "It's a little late for that."

"It's not," she bit. She had to draw the line _now. _She had to make this work. She had to get the control back. She paused for the briefest of seconds as her gaze moved over his face. "Fine. Me living here was a stupid idea."

"You can live here," he snarled. "I don't have a problem with that." He had a problem with her pretending they could just be friends. He had a problem with her _wanting _that at all. He watched her. There was obviously something going on - and he was going to find out what it was. Because sooner or later, she would crack. "All right," he said, shortly. "Let's_ go back to how it was before."_

It was obvious he didn't believe they could - but she was going to show him. He'd see. (And he'd see that it was for the best; and this way, she could at least leave with a shred of dignity).

There was an awkward knock on the door, and then Nate popped his head around. Followed by Serena. "So...not to rush you guys, or anything, but we were kind of hungry..."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. We've sortedit."

Blair shot him a quick glance. "We have," she agreed tightly.

Serena looked delighted. "So...you're moving back in?"

"I'm moving back in."

* * *

Blair's first day at W magazine had gone better than she'd even expected. Perhaps because it had distracted her perfectly from thoughts of Chuck. But she'd enjoyed it - currying favour with her new boss and sabotaging the other interns was what she excelled in.

Not only that, but she'd as good as got a sign that she was doing the right thing by reverting to boarding school Blair. Because it turned out that there was an intern there who'd only ever known that version of her anyway. She had, frankly, no idea what _Dan Humphrey _was doing interning at a fashion magazine - he'd mumbled something about writing - but she'd been oddly overjoyed to see him.

So much so that she'd even agreed to get coffee with him during their break. And it was _easy, _she realised; talking to him. There were no expectations for her to keep him interested. To keep him wanting more. He expected her to be a bitch, and she was - she expected him to be rambly and a little awkward, and he was. Something that she could do with her eyes closed.

She wrinkled her nose at him now. "NYU, seriously? After all that time going on about Dartmouth?"

He gulped his cappuaccino and launched into a very convoluted story about mentoring problems and writer's block and references - but they were cut off, before Blair could quite make sense of it, by the airy tones of Tish.

"Oh, goody." She dropped down next them at their table with a rather pleased smile. "I was afraid I'd never work out this Gossip Girl Spotter thing - but here you are!"

Blair raised an eyebrow. "You were looking for me?"

Tish pulled a long face. "Carter's in a foul mood and Max is still...doing whatever that business is," she waved a hand; "But it's still not sorted so I'm stuck in New York." She sighed. "I do love New York, but not when the boys are being so dull. And this is your fault, you know," she added with mild reproof. "Carter's been a mess since you left. Not that I blame you," she sighed. "Carter really shouldn't try to spoil your fun." She picked up Dan's cappuaccino without seeming to notice and took a long sip. "That blonde girl isn't here, right?" She glanced around the cafe as it occurred to her - and it was only then that she did notice Dan.

Dan, whose mouth had gone a little slack-jawed since she'd wafted in and was now having great difficulty speaking as he tried not to stare. So he'd definitely noticed her.

"Hello. Who's this?"

Since Dan was still stuttering away, Blair thought she'd save them all some time. "This is Humphrey. He's a writer." She couldn't quite conceal a smirk as she said it. She bet Dan had been waiting all his life to be introduced that way.

Tish blinked at him. "Really? What do you write?" The idea of anyone doing that as an actual _profession_ interested her. She listened while he mumbled on about short stories and articles, and decided that he was rather sweet. In a scruffy way. He didn't look like he'd ever had sex before, and that interested her too. She wasn't accustomed to taking the time to pity anyone, but she did feel some sympathy for virgins and everything they were missing out on. Actually, it made her sad.

Blair rolled her eyes, but there was a layer of slightly gleeful amusement there. Dan was enraptured. She predicted that a batch of short stories about an unattainable red-head were now in the making. And she knew enough about Tish now to know that her next conquest was clearly in the making too.

* * *

"So. Who's Dan Humphrey?"

Chuck prowled into the living room, where Blair was curled up on the sofa with her class notes, and slid down next to her. She had to resist the urge to scoot away from him because she could_ feel_ his heat. This was exactly why she'd been avoiding the apartment. Nate and Serena were currently ensconsced in their bedroom so would be no help.

Because as determined as Blair was to prove that she_ could_ just be friends with Chuck, he was equally determined to prove that she couldn't.

She wanted to ask why he was stalking her, but reminded herself that friends made small talk. "I went to school with him, and now he's interning at W too." The way that she was sitting left her curled into him, her knees brushing the warmth of his thigh. "Why?" She shifted away from him, under the guise of straightening her legs out - and froze as she realised it had hitched her dress up. She hastily tugged it down over her tights; but Chuck's gaze had rested, too late, on her thighs.

He smirked, faintly. "No reason. I saw a picture of the two of you on Gossip Girl...is that Humphrey as in Humphrey Records?"

"Yes," Blair snapped. "His father owns the company." Why was it suddenly so hot? She picked up her notes again to try and concentrate on them.

Chuck stretched one arm over the sofa, just above her shoulders. She knew that if she made a fuss she'd just get that challenge, an arched eyebrow like she was the one making a big deal out of nothing. Daring her to tell him what was wrong. But damnit, he was far too close. His fingers almost brushed her shoulder, and she could smell his cologne.

She jumped as he leaned over her to glance at the papers in her hand.

"Test tomorrow?" he enquired.

"French history," she muttered back.

"Want me to test you?" He was still smirking.

"No. Thank you."

He was about to say something back - but she was saved by the bell. Literally, as her phone went. She was relieved for the chance to put some distance between them as she snatched up the device; so relieved that she didn't check the caller ID until it was too late.

"Blair."

She managed to repress a groan. "Damien. Hi."

Chuck's ears had pricked up at that - he was watching her now. Very closely. She tried to turn her back on him, but not seeing him just made her feel even more on edge. It was hard to focus on what Damien was saying at all.

"So, are you up for it?"

"Yes," she said distractedly. "Sure."

It was only then that she realised just how pleased Damien sounded. "Then I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven? I'm sure Monsier Dupres can't wait to meet you."

She realised must have just agreed to the State Dinner. Oh, hell. Chuck was still watching.

"Uh, tomorrow at seven sounds great. See you then." She supposed, as she hung up, that it wouldn't be too bad - an evening of diplomats she could enjoy. And trying to join La Table Elitaire would give her something else to focus on.

Chuck's eyes were narrowed on her now, though his face was calm and perfectly unreadable. "A date with Damien? My, my."

She lifted her chin. It was hardly a _date - _but anyway. "Is there a problem, Bass?"

"No," he mused. There was something darker in his gaze. "I just...wouldn't want you to give poor Dalgaard the wrong impression."

"And what would that be?" Blair asked frostily.

"That he's in any way in your league." Chuck's response was idle. "You really should stop stringing these boys along, Waldorf. It's not fair."

Blair just scowled at him. "It's not really any of your business, is it?"

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm just asking as a _friend," _he purred. "Don't you and Serena usually talk about these things? Besides, you always kept me updated before you came back."

Blair snapped her mouth closed and snatched up her notes. "I'm going to study in my room."

Chuck watched her go, still smirking. He resisted the temptation to ask if she wanted any company. For now.

* * *

"B, you look amazing!" Serena cried as Blair came out from her room; Chuck had to agree.

She wore a full-length black sparkling dress, hair pulled back - just so that he could see the nape of her neck, Chuck was sure - with gorgeous pearl earrings and heels. He tried not to glower. She was wasting _this _on someone like Damien Dalgaard?

Blair attempted to ignore the heat of his gaze.

Serena squeezed her hands. "Have a great time. And don't forget - breakfast tomorrow! Cece's in town for mom's birthday, and they're planning a party...so I need all the buffers I can get."

Blair smirked a little. "I'll be there." Lily and Cece attempting to do anything together was never a good idea.

"Say hi to Damien from me," Serena added. "And...bonjour to all those ambassadors!"

The blonde noticed the twist of Chuck's lip as he watched Blair leave; and she noticed the way Blair couldn't quite stop herself from looking back, just once. Then she was gone.

"Chuck," Serena said, warningly, once they were alone.

"What?" Chuck snapped.

"Leave it."

"Leave what?" he growled. "I'm not doing anything. Waldorf can gallivant about with all the creeps she wants."

"You know she doesn't like Damien," Serena sighed. "But - let's face it. It's not like you ever took her out on any dates."

At that, Chuck's eyes slanted in outrage. Firstly, because he _had _taken her out on 'dates'. He was sure, far more exciting than State Dinners. And second because Blair had been the one who hadn't wanted to call them dates after their agreement. "Wrong, van der Woodsen."

Serena glanced at him as though slightly surprised by this news. Then she sighed again. "Chuck. Just let her enjoy herself."

Chuck just gave her a look. "Funny. I didn't think anyone could enjoy themselves with Damien." He stalked out, leaving Serena to shake her head.

Actually, she thought the same. But she was hoping that once Blair realised just how awful other guys were in comparison, then she'd realise Chuck was the only one for her and they could get over whatever they were fighting about.

Serena would always be an optimist.

* * *

The State Dinner was everything Blair had expected - and she was safe, smiling and shaking the hands of powerful strangers that didn't know her. She'd found Monsieur Dupres and kept up a conversation in French, hopefully charming him. Or at least leaving an impression. Apart from Damien, in fact, the night was going very well.

Was it wild? No. But Blair knew what she was doing. She could do this.

"Blair?"

She froze at the familiar - but still not exactly familiar - voice, and turned to find herself facing Bart Bass. He looked equally jolted to see her here. She didn't think she'd spoken to him properly since she was a little girl. Even at his anniversary party, he'd been too busy with the reporter and trying to maintain his facade.

She gazed up at him now, remembering her manners. "Mr. Bass. How are you?"

Damien, at her side, wasn't very happy when he heard the man's name. Bass. They were _everywhere_, for God's sake. He was even less happy when the guy asked how Chuck was. As if he needed bringing up.

But Blair had noticed Bart's tone. "He's fine," she murmured. She glanced up at the older man. "I didn't realise you were back in town, though - Chuck never said?" Chuck wouldn't have needed to say, since she'd noticed that exrta tension in him whenever his father was back.

Bart cleared his throat. "I only got in yesterday. I haven't seen him yet." Of course he hadn't. "I hope he's been...behaving himself, anyway."

Blair paused. Bart was already on the verge of moving on.

"He's been working really hard," she said suddenly, before he could go. She looked at him and her gaze narrowed a little. "At Bass Industries. You should be proud of him."

Bart just nodded. Then he was gone.

Damien was positively furious. _Proud of him? Working really hard? _He'd assumed that Blair currently wasn't speaking to Chuck. At the very least, it was obvious that they weren't as close as they had been. So why the hell was she still defending him?


	14. Chapter 14

_'This won't hurt more than a pinch_

_So just pour a drink; let's talk it over'. _

* * *

As predicted, planning for Lily's birthday party had resulted in a long morning of sniping between Cece and her daughter. But come evening, the van der Woodsen penthouse was beautifullly decorated and awash with guests and tinkling champagne glasses.

Chuck had already spotted Blair. She was with Serena, of course, looking gorgeous in a tight green and gold wrap dress and black tights. She quietly ignored him. He'd been driving her crazy all week, he knew. Just this morning he'd casually wandered into her bathroom - in search of some floss, of course, since his had run out. She'd been in just a towel, carefully curling her hair; and she'd nearly burnt herself as she'd leapt up, yanking her towel tighter. He'd just raised an eyebrow at her. Didn't _friends_ do this kind of thing all the time? (And she'd smelt deliciously of cocoa butter, her bare skin soft and smooth under that single piece of material that gaped a little at her thighs). She'd ended up screeching at him to get out. She hadn't spoken to him since.

Evelyn was glancing at her too. Chuck had intended to avoid his mother for the whole party - unfortunately Lily had also invited the chair of the Bass Industries board, and Chuck was stuck trying to charm him. Which was why Evelyn kept looking at Blair, eyes narrowed. She clearly wanted him to drag her over here. Chuck's jaw clenched as he focused on talking to the man instead.

Eventually Evelyn decided enough was enough. With an idle glance at her son, mouth pursed, she swept up to the girl herself and disengaged her from the blonde.

"Blair." She bent to kiss her cheeks, lips cool; Blair managed not to flinch. "I haven't seen you since my party. How have you been, lovely?"

"Great."

Evelyn's lip curled down at her. "Much better now that you're out of that penthouse, I'm sure." Those black eyes glittered. "I do worry about you sometimes."

"I can't imagine why." Blair's tone was sweet and even.

"Oh, Blair." Evelyn laughed softly as she rested a brief hand on the girl's pale cheek. "You're so _brave_." It was little more than a murmur. "So like your mother. I suppose I worry because I've always thought of you as a daughter."

"Because you and Eleanor were such good friends," Blair agreed. She held the woman's eyes.

Evelyn's hand stiffened on her cheek. She smiled. "_Exactly_." She withdrew her touch. "How are you and Charles doing?"

Blair cocked her head at her. "I don't mean to be rude, Mrs. Bass," she smiled tightly herself, "But I'm not sure Chuck's love life is any of your business."

She walked away before the woman could respond. She was aware of Chuck watching her as she turned; and the expression on his face, as their eyes met, was strange. His gaze moved over her - and she realised there was real gratitude in there. Almost burning. Surprise. And something else, something she couldn't name. It made her swallow, hard. She tore her own gaze from his and moved in the opposite direction.

But he was still staring after her with that same expression.

* * *

Blair had kept herself occupied with Serena and a glass of champagne - but her eyes narrowed now as she spotted a familiar figure. Standing, of course, at the edge of the party.

"Humphrey." She arched an eyebrow, moving over to him with a little sigh. "What are you doing here?"

Dan shifted on his feet. "Uh, honestly? I have no idea." He nodded over at his father, who was currently wrapped in conversation with none other than Lily. "My dad...got invited."

Blair repressed an eyeroll. So Lily was going for music moguls now that her marriage to Klaus was officially over. Cece was also watching the pair - and she did not look impressed. Because despite the money Rufus Humphrey had acquired, there was still an aura of something vaguely...scruffy, about him. Like his son. Blair supposed it made a change from Lily's usual suits.

She could feel Nate and Serena sparing Dan curious glances from next to her. She wasn't sure she liked this, she realised - this was hardly keeping the two sides of her separate. Then again, maybe this was what she needed to explain to Nate and Serena that this was who she'd become.

Dan was rambling on about how great the buffet was now. But his voice stuttered off as he noticed someone, and -

"Blair!" Tish had crossed the room in a couple of strides, dragging a tight-faced Carter behind her. She seemed oblivious to the tension between brother and sister as she kissed Blair's cheeks. "I don't know anyone here," she announced, "And I need you to introduce me." Then she spotted Dan. "Ooh. Except you." She was already smiling, lazy, as Dan rubbed nervously at his hair. "Dan, wasn't it? You're the one who _writes."_ She still seemed very pleased with this.

Carter raised his brow at him. "I wasn't aware highschoolers had time to write," he drawled. He remembered the guy vaguely from Canterbury Accademy - Blair used to complain about him.

Dan's face flushed a little. "I graduated, actually."

"Oh right. I forgot you were in the same year as my little sister."

Blair shot him a look. She suddenly realised, though, that the faint hint of distaste on her brother's face was still there as Tish asked Dan if he'd published any novels. (Which, predictably, made Dan choke). Carter was _jealous,_ she realised. She tried not to laugh - jealous of _Dan Humphrey. _Not that he'd ever admit it in a million years. Well, she decided; good. He needed to be kept on his toes. He was also clearly annoyed with himself for just how much Tish leaning into Dan irked him. She bet he hadn't even worked out why it was getting to him so much.

"Actually," her eyes gleamed, "I had an idea last night. Dan's supposed to be writing a piece on an It-girl." She smirked, briefly, at her brother. "Why don't you do Tish?"

Tish looked rather entertained by the prospect of an article all about her. "Really?"

Dan had flushed. "That's...I mean, if you don't mind, that would be, uh, really great."

He couldn't even complete a sentence, Carter thought with irritation. But Tish's face had brightened. "I don't have to do any writing myself, do I?"

"No," Blair assured her sweetly.

"Well, as long as whatever you write is good...daddy does have a 'no-publicity' rule, but I'm sure he won't bother to read anything published by a Yank," Tish reflected.

"You two should swap numbers," Blair went on as she noted Carter's scowl. "Set up the first interview as soon as possible."

Dan was nodding eagerly, pulling out his phone. He looked a little dazed like he could hardly believe his luck. Actually, Blair decided at Carter's look of disbelief, she'd got it all wrong. Clearly brothers and sisters were supposed to interfere in each other's lives. She'd forgotten how much fun it was. Carter could get off his lazy ass and work for something for a change.

"We should find Max," Carter snapped now.

Tish glanced round too. "It's fine, darling. He's keeping Toby busy." When Carter got the invitation to Lily's party, Max had not only invited himself but insisted on dragging Tish's cousin along too. Toby, Blair assumed, was the pale guy stood next to Max now, quietly nodding like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Then her gaze landed on Chuck. He was watching her, of course. She hastily looked away again - not that it made a difference. She could still feel his eyes on her.

* * *

Chuck couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand watching her avoid him, watching her pretend he didn't exist. Because as much as he'd driven her crazy this week, she'd driven him far crazier. She wouldn't be going to such lengths to push him away if she didn't still want him on some level - her reaction just this morning - so _why _was she doing it? Why was she trying so hard to deny it?

(And why had she said what she did to his mother? She only had to tell Evelyn that there was nothing going on between them - which was what she claimed to want anyway. And why had watching her do it made his breathing constrict so painfully?)

He'd noticed the other, smaller changes too. It was obvious she still wanted to be with Nate and Serena, but whenever they went out she was always _busy. S_he'd put up a definite barrier. Just a tiny one - barely noticeable at all, really - but still there. Like she was drawing lines that only she could see. He'd been trying to put his finger on exactly what it was all week, and he wondered if he'd suddenly seen it with Evelyn. Blair would do anything for them. But she wouldn't let them do anything for her.

He was still watching her as Evelyn herself approached. Her haughty face was impassive; she didn't bother to even glance at her son. She downed a flute of champagne. "Charles," she inhaled. "This ends now." Her gaze rested on Blair as she slipped away from Nate and Serena to the bathroom. The girl wasn't going anywhere. It curled in her throat, a hiss. "You fix it."

* * *

Serena had started questioning Dan about Blair's love life in school - she'd even made the _he's cute _face, like Blair would ever go for a rambly wannabe writer - which Blair had taken as her cue to leave. She could see the questions flustering Dan too, but she figured he owed her. Hell, she'd set up a date with him and his dream girl - like he'd ever have accomplished_ that_ on his own. She was quite content leaving him to mumble that he had no idea what the guys at Canterbury Accademy were like.

She was on the verge of shutting the bathroom door, now, when a hand stopped it. And before she could shove him out, Chuck had slid in too. He locked the door behind him in one fluid motion, blocking her path. He appraised her in silence, and the heat of his golden eyes made her burn.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. She tried to edge away from his body.

"We need to talk." It wasn't even a request.

"No," she said between gritted teeth - because the room suddenly seemed impossibly small and now there was no escape from that gaze - "You need to stop following me into bathrooms."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. He wasn't in the mood for playing, she realised. "I'll stop following you when you stop denying anything ever happened." He took a step closer, and she found her back against the sink. "I know your feelings haven't changed," he growled, those eyes still never leaving hers. He studied her silently. He'd had enough of this _friends _crap. "You want me."

She tried not to flinch as her heart sped up, as she breathed in the scent of him - against her better judgement - and his stare threatened to consume her. Yes, she still wanted him. She wanted him so much her throat was dry and her chest ached. She wanted him so much that, for a second, she wondered why she didn't just give in. Give in, relent to that dark abandon again.

"It should never have happened in the first place." Her voice caught, struggled to surface as she struggled to remind herself exactly why.

He leaned in even closer. "Your eyes are doing that thing where they don't match your mouth," he murmured, gaze flickering down to her lips and back up, slowly, over her face. He had one hand against the counter now, practically pinning her to it even though he wasn't actually touching her. Yet. His mouth curved as he heard her breathing hitch, as those wide chocolate eyes drank him in and he tilted his face even closer. His heart was thudding against his chest. "Don't forget, Waldorf. I know you too well."

She stared up at him. _Don't forget. _She couldn't forget - she couldn't let herself forget _why_ she had to stop this. "You don't," she said, tightly. "And that's exactly why we'll never work." She couldn't move out of his hold, but she turned her face away from his.

His jaw tightened, uncomprehending, as he tilted her chin up to him. He couldn't stop himself. "How could I not know _you_?"

"Because I'm not the same person I was seven years ago!" It was sudden, the snap - and he almost flinched, but he was still holding her.

He stared down at her as he tried to work it out. What was she talking about? "Waldorf. Of course you are." How could she _not _be? Those were the same brown eyes he'd always known - parents dying and boarding school didn't make her any less Blair.

She just scoffed. But it stuck, harsh. "I don't know who that person is any more. And it was stupid to think that I could come back from school and things would go back to the way they used to be." She was finally, finally saying it - and it didn't make it any less bitter. It didn't make the hurt in her chest go away, and it didn't make it any easier to look at him.

But he caught her arms, forcing her to. "I know _exactly_ who you are," he growled. "Do does Serena, and so does Nate." He gazed down at her and his eyes were almost black as he refused to let her avoid them. "You really think trying to cut us out is going to make us any less aware? You really think we could ever _not_ know you?"

She swallowed. She was silent as she finally gazed up at him, and he saw the confusion - fear and hurt and reluctance as she tried to process it. But _he_wasn't like Nate and Serena, she thought hopelessly. He was, but he wasn't. Him knowing her terrified her; because then what did it mean? That he knew her weaknesses? So was it pity? Because what _was _she to him?

"I don't-" she shook her head. "Why do you care, Chuck?" It tripped out of her throat, hot. Was she an old friend? A fuck buddy? Carter's little sister? "Why are we even doing this?" Why had he followed her into the bathroom? Why had he stayed with her after that first night, gone to find her in the games room on Tish's jet? Because he looked out for his friends or because he felt sorry for her or -"Is it because everyone expects us to?" she demanded. "Because it's keeping Evelyn happy?"

The mention of his mother's name made him flinch inwardly. But if he'd really wanted to keep her happy then he wouldn't have gone such lengths to keep him and Blair a secret. Because everyone expected them to? Everyone expected them to date and be a perfect couple.

"Because I want you."

That was all he wanted - her.

She gazed up at him. She wanted him too. And it wasn't enough, she realised. _Want_ wasn't enough. It didn't explain why she'd do anything to protect him. it didn't explain why he'd done those things for her - told Carter that she'd needed _help - _unless it really was just sympathy. Or. Or -

"That's it?" she said, very softly. Her voice was a little unsteady as he held her. She searched his face. _(Tell me it's not pity. Tell me what it is every time I see your face or breathe you in or feel your touch)._ "Is that the only reason?"

His hands were still curled around her arms. But he stiffened, ever so slightly. She was looking up at him; asking him. She wanted an answer. An answer that he already knew.

_It's not hard, Charles. Three little words and she'll do whatever you want._

He stared down at those dark eyes, every inch of her fierce beautiful face. He was still holding her. Slowly, he closed his mouth. Silent.

Blair's breathing was uneven for a second as she acknowledged that he wasn't going to say anything. Her eyes moved over him, one last time, and then dragged away. There was a stinging somewhere at the back of her throat. She pulled her arms out of his.

"It's not enough." It was rigid as she turned away from him. She unlocked the bathroom door and he watched her walk away. His chest was unbearably tight, hands clenched as he made no move to go after her.

* * *

Tish was currently regaling Max and Toby with news of her article. Toby smiled, warm, while Max just laughed.

"Sure, babe. Just make sure there's no naked pictures, or your daddy'll kill me." He went back to talking to Toby about some kind of investment - the business that actually mattered - while Carter suppressed a faint scowl. Tish went after guys because they were good in bed. Not because they _wrote_, for Christ's sake. He'd rarely seen her this lazily enthusiastic about anyone. And of all people, a pretentious stuttering little freshman?

He rolled his eyes as Dan waved, awkwardly, over at Tish now - what the hell was that wave? - and then he spotted his sister. She was coming out of the bathroom, and her face was white. His eyes narrowed for a moment.

He saw Chuck too, but he noticed the distance between them. Whatever they'd been getting up too, Chuck's face was even blanker than hers. He headed straight for the bar. Blair headed straight for the elevator, once she'd said bye to Nate and Serena.

ِCarter wasn't the only person watching. Evelyn's gaze had slanted, her face twisted in icy irritation. She should have known she couldn't leave anything up to her son. He ignored her as he started on the whiskey. If she wanted to get something done, then she needed to do it herself. Of course. That Waldorf legacy wasn't going anywhere. It was about time, she decided coolly, she did some digging.


	15. Chapter 15

'_We can't lose touch but we can let go_

_The dark seeks dark'. _

* * *

Chuck was running over numbers in his head as he pulled his pants on, reaching for his shirt and deciding on the perfect tie.

He'd spent most of the night before prepping for this meeting. Since Bart had got back, he'd actually – so far – made an effort to include Chuck in Bass Industries. Provided he did the work. There was still the sense that his father was testing him in some way, waiting for him to mess it up; but he was apparently serious about Chuck being serious.

And Chuck was serious. He'd much rather think about numbers and hotels and stock-markets than the brunette whose photo smirked down at him, now, from his shelves. Technically it was a photo of the four of them, but still his eyes only ever moved to one face when he looked at it.

Nate and Serena kept whining that all either of them seemed to do nowadays was work. Chuck stayed later and later at Bass Industries every night – and Blair had joined every society and study group she possibly could, taking on every extra assignment or errand available at W. Ambitious was all they were being. Focused. Not avoiding their shared penthouse at all. Not avoiding the unbearable ache he got just from being in the same room as her. Not avoiding the emptiness in the pit of his stomach every time he went to bed and she wasn't there. He was concentrating on Bass Industries just like he needed to.

He frowned as he heard the elevator ping; he moved out of his room, still buttoning up his shirt. And he paused when he saw Raina Thorpe, of all people, standing in his living room.

"Can I help you?" he enquired.

She smiled faintly. She wore a tight purple dress, black hair straightened and glossy as ever. "I hope so."

"I didn't realise the Thorpes were back in Manhattan."

She tilted her head. "Oh, my dad's still in Chicago. It's just me." Her gaze flipped over his still open shirt, and she grinned a little.

Chuck arched an eyebrow back. "And what brings you here?"

At that, she laughed. "Aren't you going to offer me a drink? Then we can...talk."

Carter woke up late and hungover to a missed call from Evelyn. He managed to repress an eye-roll as he tossed his phone aside. Clearly the woman wasn't going to get the message that Chuck and Blair weren't together any time soon. And he really couldn't be bothered with another conversation where she told, again, him how close they'd always been. No one _belonged_ together, he thought with irritation as he swung his legs out of bed.

There was an arrangement of flowers in the hall from Tish - _thanks for letting us stay, angel! - _that had arrived yesterday from England. From what he gathered, Max's attempts at getting a foothold in her uncle's business hadn't gone too well and he'd had to admit defeat before returning home with Tish.

Carter's bed was horribly empty without her; he had no doubt she was having fun frittering away the rest of her term at Cambridge.

He ignored his phone as Evelyn called again.

* * *

Raina glanced at Chuck over her martini glass. She played a good game, but he already knew why she'd really turned up. Thorpe Enterprise was in trouble. So he just needed to work out exactly what she was after from _him_. He smiled flatly over at her as she set her glass down and leaned a little closer on the sofa. He smelt desperation under that playful confidence.

He'd have to leave for his meeting soon anyway – he needed to wrap this up.

"So how's business going?" Raina smiled. "You look like you've been working hard. Not too hard," she added, teasing, "I hope."

Chuck was just about to turn the question on her when the elevator went again. He barely had time to register that familiar click of heels before _she _was suddenly there. In the living room.

She'd clearly been en route to her room; she'd stopped, now, as she stared between him and Raina.

"Blair."

The name was low his throat as he glanced at her. She wore a dark grey coat, cream scarf and maroon hat – buttoned up against the cold outside, a stark contrast to his own loosely fastened shirt and the polished expanse of Raina's skin as she leaned next to him.

"I thought you had an economics class."

Those brown eyes landed on his hint of bare chest, skimming past Raina. Raina's long bare legs, crossed, and the glass in Raina's hand.

Her face was carefully blank. "It was cancelled. I just came to pick up my laptop." It came out strange, even to her; "I thought you had a meeting." She'd thought the penthouse would be empty when she returned – that was the only reason she hadn't gone straight to W. "Sorry for interrupting." She turned, swiftly, and was already heading for her room.

Chuck glared after her in silence.

Raina cleared her throat. "So when you said Blair wasn't your girlfriend..."

"She's not," Chuck snapped.

Raina raised a brow. "But you're living together?" She wasn't buying that for a second.

"She's one of my oldest friends," Chuck snarled. He refused to get up and follow her into her room.

Raina just glanced at him. "Nothing more?"

But Chuck was no longer bothering to listen. "I have a meeting to get to," he said, curtly. "You can see yourself out." He didn't bother waiting for an answer either.

She was the one who'd ended it. She was the one who'd jumped to the assumption with Raina – and why wouldn't she? They'd spent the past few weeks avoiding each other, and she was obviously fine with that arrangement. He couldn't give her what she wanted. _Not enough. _He was staying out of her life _for_her. So if she thought he was sleeping around like Chuck Bass always did then she could move on. Just like she wanted.

Except he'd never wanted to sleep with anyone else less.

Blair was still in her coat when she re-emerged, laptop in her bag and ready to go. She'd have given anything to avoid him before she got the elevator, but he was still in the living room. He had his back to her; lazily, deliberately adjusting his cufflinks as he gazed into the mirror. Her reflection appeared behind his, just for a moment, across the room.

"Is there a problem, Waldorf?" he drawled.

"Of course not."

It was little more than a snap, and something about her white face and tight, forced indifference made his insides burn. "You're not jealous, are you?" He regarded her image in the mirror.

She looked, for a moment, like she was swallowing back bile. "I'm just not surprised." Her voice almost cracked with the effort of keeping it cool, an attempt to be acidic. Her lips tightened. "Although if that was Raina Thorpe, I don't think you should make it a habit. Unless you want to end up with a knife in your back."

He gazed at her evenly. "And you care because?" It was supposed to be a sneer, but his voice wasn't quite working properly and he hated himself for it.

"I don't," Blair bit. "I just thought you were a little smarter."

"Well, I appreciate the advice. But I think I'd rather take the sex."

Blair flinched and then swallowed it. "Fine." It was almost a whisper, her eyes darker than usual as she ripped them away from his reflection and disappeared. She didn't look back.

* * *

"So you'll, uh, read it over for me?"

It was the article on Tish that Dan was currently waving in front of Blair's face; she managed to repress an eye-roll. She had no particular desire to read over his infatuated scribblings. "I'll think about it. If I have nothing better to do." She glanced up as her pager went - Epperly. "But right now I have gift bags to arrange." She dropped the article into her desk tray and grabbed her coat; Epperly was already stressed enough, and monthly reports were coming up.

Dan sighed as she disappeared. Since Tish had returned to England for the rest of her term at Cambridge, he hadn't quite plucked up the courage to skype her. All his interviews with her while she'd been here had passed in a confusing, beautiful blur. He couldn't believe that someone who studied at Cambridge University could possibly not have read...well, anything. She seemed to have a complete disregard for literature that honestly baffled him. He'd tried to show her his favourite movies, sure that she'd be moved - and she'd frowned a little at the subtitles and asked him why on earth she'd _read _a film. She had no desire to go to art galleries - _darling, why are we looking at these squiggles? -_ and when he'd taken her to see one of his favourite spoken word performances_, _she'd pointed out that it couldn't possibly be a real play because no one wore_ jeans_ to the theatre.

In short, she bemused him. And he seemed to bemuse her too - but still his head swelled with pride every time she asked him about his _writing, _and she did seem genuinely interested by the prospect of someone being so _studious. _He was hoping he'd be able to help guide her towards her own intellectual enlightenment.

He was still daydreaming of Tish as he headed out of the W building; which was why it took him a moment to recognise the figure lurking outside. But he'd seen that lurker enough times at Canterbury Accademy.

"Damien?"

Damien's eyes slitted when he took him in. He'd been hoping to run into Blair - not Dan fucking Humphrey. He'd heard all about their internship together, and he hated it.

"What are you doing here?" Dan already knew the answer as he gazed at him with obvious distrust. "Look, don't you think it's about time you left Blair alone?"

Damien curled his lip. "Oh look," he sneered. "Humphrey dumpty to the rescue. But I'm actually meeting her here, so this is none of your business."

Dan just shook his head. "No, you're not." He knew Damien well enough to know that, even if he hadn't already known Blair was busy with Epperly. He ran a hand through his hair. "And I think Blair would be kind of pissed if she knew-"

"Knew what?" Damien snarled. "What the hell are you going to do about it, Humphrey? Write a short story in your diary?"

Dan's face creased at the low blow. Seriously, what was this guy's problem? "Hey, man-"

"Face it. You're not going to do anything, because you never do. And this has nothing to do with you anyway - so do everyone a favour and get lost." Daminen was positively spitting, the loathing in his eyes palatable. "You stick your nose where it's not wanted, and you're gonna regret it."

"Is that a threat?" Dan demanded, a little outraged. And kind of creeped out.

"It's a promise," Damien hissed.

He stalked off, leaving Dan seriously creeped out. He'd seen on Gossip Girl that Blair had been going to a few events with Damien - now he had actual proof that it was a seriously bad idea. He needed to call her.

Bart was working in the Bass study when his cell went.

"Father." Chuck's voice was slightly stiff down the phone line. He _never _called his father - they didn't usually speak unless they had to.

"Chuck." Bart was also aware that his son never called; his eyes were already narrowed. "What is it? Did something happen in the meeting?" This was, after all, the first meeting he'd let Chuck fly solo in - he paused as he tried to work out what could have possibly gone wrong -

"No. The meeting was fine." The boy's voice suddenly got a lot cooler. Of course that was the assumption Bart had jumped to. "It went well."

There was a tight feeling in Bart's chest at the rigid admission, so he switched back into business mode. "I'm glad to hear it. Is that," he asked curtly, "Why you're calling?"

"No," Chuck muttered. He cleared his throat. "I thought you should know that Raina Thorpe is back in town. And I think she's looking for trouble."

Bart repressed a sigh. He knew what that was about - Avery had found out about Russell and Evelyn and was threatening to leave her husband. The scandal had leaked, and it looked like Avery wasn't going to stop till she'd dragged his name completely through the mud. Bart suspected Raina had gone to Chuck in search of some kind of revenge. "I'll handle it."

He heard Chuck scoff, faintly. "I can deal with Raina." There was a pause. "I just thought you'd like to know."

Bart paused too. "Well, if you're sure-"

"I am." It was almost a snap.

Bart closed his eyes briefly, pressing his fingers into his temples. But his tone was frosty and efficient as ever when he spoke. "All right. Thank you."

He could have been thanking a client.

Chuck hung up first.

Bart set the phone down and got back to his papers. He tended to avoid working from home as much as possible, but Evelyn was at the spa and he'd taken the opportunity, knowing she'd be out, to sort through his filing cabinets. He wasn't supposed to be back at all - but he'd prefer to get his paperwork done without his wife there.

He moved into the living room to pour himself a glass of scotch. Except the liquor cabinet was, of course, empty. Clearly Evelyn hadn't bothered to restock it. Rolling his eyes, Bart headed for Chuck's room. He knew damn well that his son always kept aside at least a bottle, and with any luck he hadn't taken all of it with him when he'd moved out. It was a ridiculous state of affairs when Bart had to go rifling through his son's room just to get a bottle of his own damn liquor.

Chuck's desk was empty, and the pictures that had once been on his walls were no doubt hanging in his new penthouse. If the meeting really had gone well then he'd done well for himself, Bart knew. He shoved aside that snap he'd heard in his son's voice and pulled open the first drawer, flicking over papers.

It was only because he recognised one of Andrew Tyler's reports that he paused for a moment.

He knew Evelyn used their private investigator for her own purposes, but he hadn't been aware Chuck did too. His frown deepened when he read the name on top of the sheet.

Blair Waldorf.

He remembered seeing her at that State Dinner - and he remembered, all too sharply, what she'd told him. He didn't involve himself in his Chuck's love life; but Blair Waldorf, he did remember. Why the hell was his son investigating her?

* * *

Chuck returned to his apartment to find a curly mop awaiting him.

Actually, the curly mop was peering at his bookcase and checking out his books like he still hadn't quite worked out what was acceptable in society - or more specifically, in someone else's home.

"Do I know you?" Chuck enquired. He actually recognised the mop as Dan Humphrey, but only because of Blair.

Dan jumped. He did at least have the courtesy to flush and back away from the shelves. "Uh, I didn't realise you were a Bronte fan." Then again, maybe the whole gothic thing did fit that dark hair and black, slanted eyes. He'd heard about Chuck Bass, and the guy was no less intimidating in the flesh.

Chuck arched an eyebrow. He was swift to cut Humphrey off before he could launch into a rambling literary discussion about his favourite books. "Is there a reason that you're in my penthouse?"

"I was...uh, I was actually looking for Blair." Humphrey rubbed a hand along the back of his head, awkward. "Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Not for another few hours. At least."

Dan shifted on his feet. Crap. "But...I mean, Epperly can't keep her working that long." He laughed nervously. "That's practically slave labour." He'd tried calling Blair after his confrontation with Damien a couple of days ago, but she'd brushed him off. He'd wanted to talk to her face to face so she'd actually listen, but she'd been too busy (well, obssessed, really) with proving herself to Epperly for her review to have time for him.

Chuck just rolled his eyes at that. "Unlike you, I'm sure, Waldorf does have a life outside of W." And many obsessions besides. "She's at a gala."

Dan stilled. "Is she with Damien?" A gala sounded exactly like the kind of thing Damien Dalgaard would take her to. And if that were the case -

Chuck's gaze slanted a little. "Yes. Why?" He noticed that Dan Humphrey looked decidedly uneasy.

"I just..." He shook his head. "Uh, I need to speak to her. And she won't really listen to me. Any time I mention Damien, she goes on about this table thing, and..."

"La Table Elitaire," Chuck corrected drily. But he was watching him now. "What about Damien?"

Dan swallowed a little. He didn't know Chuck Bass. Then again, he looked like the kind of person who could actually deal with this. "He's...uh, he's not exactly a great guy. Trust me. I was at school with him-"

Chuck stopped him there. His gaze had narrowed even further; he knew he'd been right in thinking Damien was a creep. "Start at the beginning."

* * *

Blair had agreed to the gala for the sole reason that Monsieur Dupres would be attending, but the truth was that she felt like screaming. She was in her element at things like this - she had been for weeks now - but it was the same people she was smiling and shaking hands with, and Damien was hardly the best of company. She'd heard Dan's warnings; and yes, Damien was undoubtedly a perv. But there was still something easy about being with him. He knew the Blair from Canterbury Accademy, and she'd never needed to impress him before - in all honesty, he was one of the only people whose opinion of her made no difference. It was even easier than being with Dan, because he actively encouraged all those traits of hers she'd decided to resume.

Throwing herself into work was supposed to take up all her energy. And still she couldn't stop that restless, empty feeling. She was achieving - she was focused and busy, so busy she'd hardly had time to stop and think. Because if she actually stopped and thought she was terrified she'd lose her mind. If she didn't have a mark or a position or a report to strive for then she'd realise exactly what it was that she was missing.

Just like boarding school. Just like she'd wanted.

She was seated at the moment, hands folded on her lap and Damien at her side as she listened to the speeches at the podium. There was a faint ripple throughout the room as the next speaker was announced. Toby Lloyd-Davis. Blair glanced at the guy as he took his place. She recognised him. Lloyd-Davis – she'd seen him at Lily's party. (Which led her thoughts to a moment in a bathroom that she really didn't want to think about now because it still hurt too much).

Damien was muttering into her now, a note of glee in his voice – she'd have to get him to move in a second, because he was way too close – as he told her he knew Toby himself.

"I went to prep school with him, he was practically retarded. He's only here because he inherited his dad's company – Rudolph Lloyd-Davis?" He snickered. "The guy must be turning in his grave."

Blair's nose wrinkled at the tasteless comment as she glanced at Toby again, if only to avoid the unpleasant company next to her.

He looked a little less pale than he had at Lily's; he had a faint smile and warm brown eyes. He was tall, like Tish, and he definitely didn't look retarded. Blair couldn't think of anything worse than addressing a room full of people in the wake of a man as impressive as Rudolph Lloyd-Davis – especially right after he'd died. Especially if he was your own father. If she'd had to talk about Waldorf Designs right after -

She suddenly shook herself, irritated. What was the foreign feeling creeping up on her? Sympathy? She didn't do sympathy. Or, even worse, empathy. At this rate she'd be traipsing round orphanages to hug every child just because they'd lost parents too. She'd distanced herself from _orphans _and their tragic stories a long time ago.

Still, she rolled her eyes in annoyance and tuned out Damien's stream of criticism to watch the guy speak. She didn't know why Damien was proving particularly unbearable at the moment

* * *

"Come on," Damien leaned over as the speeches finally wrapped up. "Let's get a drink."

He went to take her hand, but she brushed past him. She didn't know why tonight felt quite so stifling; why that irritation seethed through her still. "I think I can walk by myself."

There was no warmth in her voice, and he swallowed a grimace. "Of course you can." Chuck had obviously done something to upset her - shocker - but being her shoulder to cry on was proving near on impossible. Persistance. That was what he needed. He guided her in the direction of an elderly couple, sure their pedigree would have her hooked. He knew she lived for impressing people like the Bellmonts. Briony Bellmont, nee Harriman, was the daughter of the Colony Club's founding member. Blair tried hard not to roll her eyes at the prospect of being trapped in conversation with the geriatrics. (What was wrong with her?) This was going to be a long night.

They were mid-introductions when Damien spotted someone else, clearly on his way to the bar. His smile was oily as he called out. "Tobes." He smirked. The guy had no chance but to acknowledge him and come over.

"Damien." He glanced round their group, cool, as Damien shook his hand. "It's been a while."

"Too long." Damien's eyes glinted like there was some kind of private joke. Blair doubted it was particularly funny. "Great speech, by the way. Good to see that you've got over your reading problems."

"Reading problems?" Mrs. Bellmont enquired. She and her pompous husband glanced him over. They all knew Rudolph Lloyd-Davis. His son they knew far less - though they'd heard the rumours that he didn't have what it took to run his father's company.

"Poor Tobes didn't have the best time at school," Damien grinned. Nastily. "Dyslexia, aren't they calling it now? I hear it runs in the family."

Toby paused. His glanced at Damien but he didn't say anything. He seemed quite calm.

"I don't believe in dyslexia," Mrs. Bellmont was commenting airily. "In my day, we simply called a person illiterate." Blair rolled her eyes at the obnoxious old woman while her husband nodded in agreement. Anyone with half a brain cell could see that the guy wasn't illiterate.

Damien looked almost gleeful. Toby had been quiet and good-looking in prep school; accademic skill had always been the one weapon Damien could wave in his face. Which he'd waved, over and over, because Toby had always been near impossible to provoke. "But like I said - great job." He clapped him on the back. "What was it Emerson said? A good speech should always end sooner than one, uh, dares hope." He smirked again over at Blair. "Yours definitely did that."

Toby tilted his head. "I thought that was Lord Reading," he said, mildly.

Damien's smile faded, but his eyes slid to Blair once more like he was expecting her to be on his side. To laugh with him. Blair, however, had had about enough. "Emerson said that a good speech needs a desperate drunkeness on a certain belief." Her gaze was cutting, and she dragged out the word _desperate_quite deliberately. Damien didn't miss it. "Speaking of which," she added brittly, "I'm going to get some champagne." She was going to get as far away from Damien as possible. "If you'll excuse me." She couldn't face any more time with the Bellmonts either.

She was seriously debating texting her driver at the bar - enough was enough - when she felt someone come up behind her.

"Mind if I sit here?"

She glanced round to see Toby. He was obviously in need of a drink too. "It's a free country," she retorted, because she wasn't even in the mood to be polite. The stupid barman was too busy with a couple on the other side to notice either of them anyway. What had happened to good service, she thought savagely?

Toby tried to get the guy's attention - nothing.

"Great," Blair muttered.

Toby looked at her for a moment. "Did Emerson really say that?" he enquired.

She arched an eyebrow. "You think I'd quote something incorrectly?" That made him smile a little; and his smile threw her off guard for a second. She paused. "He may not have said exactly that," she admitted after a beat.

Toby's quiet grin was almost infectious. "I'm Toby, by the way. Pleased to meet you."

She found her hand suddenly in his. "Blair." She was dimly aware that it was the first time in a long time that she hadn't introduced herself as Blair Waldorf. The first time in a long time that her name didn't sound like the title of someone she was desperate to be.

His brow furrowed a little. "I've seen you before, haven't I?"

As a general rule, Blair didn't appreciate having to remind people whether or not they'd _seen_ her. But she supposed he hadn't exactly seemed in his right mind that day, and it wasn't like they'd been introduced. "Lily van der Woodsen's birthday party. And I know your cousin."

Toby laughed. "I remember. Tish mentioned someone called Blair a few times. She really liked your dress?" He glanced at her again, and there was a sparkle in his eye. "It was a pretty great dress."

Was he saying he did remember her, then? Blair blinked a little. "Well...obviously." She'd rather not remember anything about that party anyway. She'd spent the past few weeks trying to shove it as far to the back of her mind as she possibly could, and it still...hurt. She didn't want it to.

"So how do you know Damien?"

* * *

A little while later the barman was still oblivious to their presence. If Blair hadn't been talking to Toby, she'd have given the guy a piece of her mind a long time ago. What did you have to do to get a glass of champagne around here? Toby looked around briefly now. "I may give this up and go to an actual bar, since it doesn't look like we're going to get served any time soon." His gaze fell on her. "You're welcome to join me...only I'd rather leave now." He winced a little. "Because that Bellmont woman is on her way over."

Blair glanced round too. Not just the Bellmont woman. Damien was also on his way over, headed straight for them. She only paused for a moment. Damien was trying to catch her eye; that decided it. "I'll get my coat."

It wasn't till they were out of the stifling ballroom, and she was breathing in the cool air of the night that she realised she could, in fact, breathe. She hadn't realised just how good it felt. She'd been so focused on getting away from Damien - away from all of them - that it took her a second to remember Toby.

He glanced down at her. "Where do you want to go?"

The question made her blanche, suddenly. What was she doing? She'd been having a good time with him inside, and she'd been too caught up in that to realise she could actually like him. But going to get a drink with with him -

"I don't know." She was aware that her voice was much tighter again; and it seemed he was too.

His mouth curved a little as he regarded her. "Do you still want to do this?"

And this time she did hesitate. "I'm..."

His smile was gentle. "You're what?"

She swallowed. His brown eyes were soft, and they were nothing like Chuck's. His hair was honey gold and the wrong texture. Thinking about Chuck made her think of Chuck and Raina, and she felt that hollowness inside her again. (She'd always known that Chuck liked sleeping around, which was why she didn't understand how the thought of them could make her feel quite so miserable). "I'm sorry," she managed at last. "I can't."

He was serious for a second. "You're not a recovering alcoholic," he asked, gravely, "Are you?" She looked up and saw that sparkle again in his eye.

"No."

He was still smiling. He didn't push her to tell him what it was then. "Do you want me to call you a car?"

She exhaled, soft. "I have a driver."

"Then I'll wait with you till he comes," Toby said simply. He cocked an eyebrow before she could protest. "You're not going to make me feel bad for dragging you out of that gala, are you?"

Her lips pursed. "Trust me, you didn't drag me anywhere."

She wasn't used to this, she realised. Any of her interactions with attractive guys at boarding school had been all about her own power. About impressing on them exactly who she was so that she could maintain her reputation. And then Chuck -

She couldn't think about Chuck.

But she wasn't trying to get anything out of Toby, and there was no one watching. (And he wasn't Chuck).

She was oddly silent until her car pulled up. Toby didn't say anything, so she'd obviously put him off enough. Well, she'd be pissed too if she'd wasted half an hour at a bar with someone - without even a drink - only for them to pull a complete 180 at the last minute. He was clearly waiting for her to go.

She turned to say goodbye and he stopped her.

"Blair, I like you." His eyes crinkled down at her as she stilled. It sounded ridiculous, but no one had ever said...that to her before. _Like? _She was as vain and self-centered as a person could be, and even she wouldn't say she _liked _herself. "So, if you ever change your mind...can I give you my number? Don't worry," he added. "You won't break my heart if you say no. Well, not that much." His grin was faint.

She paused and wished he wasn't quite so charming. She found herself almost believing it was that easy. His smile seemed to say, calmly, that it could be. (And he wasn't Chuck).

"I-"

"Or you could just text to let me know you got back safely. Help my guilty conscience?"

She raised a brow at him. "In case something happens to me in the five minute car ride?"

"You shouldn't tempt fate," he assured her. She remembered too late that his father had just died in a car accident. His gaze twinkled, though.

So she took his number.

* * *

Carter dropped onto the couch in his penthouse as he held his phone to his ear. He'd spent the morning with an investor for Waldorf Designs, part of overseeing the company until Blair took control. "Tish," he drawled into the receiver now. "Happy birthday, beautiful."

"Carter." Tish sounded rather pleased to hear from him. "Oh, you remembered."

"I hope you've got a wild night planned."

"Hum," she sighed. "Sadly not. Everyone here's knuckling down for exams - God knows why. I wanted to go to London, but Maxxie's got important business with daddy. So I'll have to find some way of entertaining myself. Honestly," - he could practically hear her stretch on the other end of the line - "When did everyone get so boring?"

"Well, I sent you a package. It's not boring," he added with a smirk.

She perked up at that. "A present?" She sounded a little more enthusiastic now. "That sounds far more exciting."

"Maxxie forgot?"

"Well, I hope so." He could hear her frown. "Otherwise it may be trickier to convince him he has to buy me the new Valentino to make up for it."

Carter smirked again and was about to say something else when he heard movement outside. "I'd go for two presents if I were you. I'll speak to you soon."

"Bye, darling - thanks again!"

He hung up and pushed open the living room doors. Evelyn was waiting for him on the other side. He gave a little sigh, just about managing not to roll his eyes. But he was too smooth to ever be anything less than charming to parents. "Evelyn."

She smiled sinuously at him. "I'm sorry for the intrusion. I need to talk to you."

_Let me guess. Chuck. Here we fucking go again. _"Is everything ok?"

"No," she murmured, soft. "Not really. I'm going to tell you something, Carter, that I trust you won't repeat to anyone else. I think I can count on your discretion in this case. And I'm only telling you because I need you to listen."

He stared at her. Well this was a new one. His tone was even, wary. "All right then."

Evelyn sighed a little. She'd taken the chaise long, form curved in sleek grey as she glanced at him. Her black eyes were unreadable. "There are certain things that we - women especially - never talk about, because we'd prefer to forget they exist altogether. Still. There comes a point when they can't be ignored." Carter tried to work out what the hell she was getting at. But even he wasn't prepared for what she said next. "When I was seventeen, my mother caught me in the bathroom making myself vomit." She was expressionless as she carried on. "I told her it had never happened before, of course, and she was quite happy to believe me. She believed me two years later when I was hospitalized with stomach ulcers, and two years after that - well, she was dead and I didn't have to worry. I didn't have any more family to hide it from."

Carter was silent.

Evelyn gazed at him. "You don't spend nine years perfecting something like that without learning. I know the signs better than I know most things." Her face was perfectly composed. "I saw Blair at Lily's party."

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Carter's voice was like ice. He didn't trust Evelyn for a second. But at the back of his mind, he remembered what she'd said about the nightmares and just how true that had turned out to be. And he'd been the one to get the phone call four years ago from Canterbury Accademy, saying Blair had been referred to an eating disorder specialist after someone had tipped them off -

"I'll spell it out for you if I have to, but I can promise you Blair won't need the same thing. I can promise you she knows exactly what she's doing. And the only way to stop this," Evelyn murmured, "Is to confront it."

"She's fine." It was an automatic snarl. Because she'd stopped, she'd got help and Evelyn Bass was a fucking liar and he _couldn't_ not have noticed, again, that she wasn't fine -

"Ignoring bulimia doesn't make it go away." Evelyn was so soft as she watched him, the hard slant of those cheekbones.

"She's not bulimic," Carter snapped.

"I'm sorry." There was no compassion in Evelyn's eyes. "A person never stops being bulimic. All it takes is a trigger." She regarded him. "I guess you just have to ask yourself what that trigger is."

"You want a trigger?" Carter spat. "How about your son?"

Evelyn's brow curved at him, and there was a layer of scorn in her voice now. "You think one person is responsible for what Blair's doing to herself? She's the only one doing this, sweetheart. She's the one with the problem."

Carter had got to his feet. He couldn't take this any more. "I'll have to ask you to leave," he said brusquely.

Evelyn gave him a final look. "Denial won't help anyone."

Then she swept out.


	16. Chapter 16

_'Forty-eight thousand seats bleat and roar for my memories of you_

_But something good tonight will make me forget about you for now.'_

* * *

Manhattan was battening down for winter, the sky above Central Park heavy with mist and the trees bare, grass scattered with amber leaves.

And behind one tree, Chuck could see Damien. Pretending not to hide. His grey coat was buttoned up to his face and he held a cup of coffee - like that fooled Chuck for a second. He'd been tailing the guy, and he knew he was in Central Park, now, because Blair had been spotted nearby. Chuck hadn't been to this duck pond himself since before Blair went away. He suspected Damien was hanging around on the off-chance of running into her. Well, Chuck thought scornfully, if he'd known her at all then he'd at least be carrying a loaf of bread.

"I wasn't aware you liked ducks, Bass."

Chuck paused at the drawl behind him.

"I wasn't aware you did either."

Carter was standing behind him. His eyes were narrowed as he took Chuck in, cold. They hadn't spoken since Chuck had showed up at the Waldorf penthouse looking for Blair. "What the hell are you doing here?" Carter's lip curled. "Stalking her now?"

_No_, Chuck didn't snap. _Stalking her stalker._

"I'm not allowed to go to Central Park?" he asked coolly instead.

Carter just snorted. "Give it up." His tone was like ice. "My sister's made it clear she doesn't want you, so stop following her."

Chuck glared at him. "You should be focusing your efforts elsewhere if you're so convinced Blair needs protecting. Believe me, I'm not the one you should be getting all big brother on. Damien Dalgaard's the one following her."

At that, the other guy rolled his eyes. "Dalgaard? Please. He may be a creep like you, but he doesn't have your special skill for hurting her. I know _exactly_who needs to stay away." He still remembered Blair's white face at Lily's – and Chuck, of course, behind her. He knew _exactly_ whose fault it was if she'd relapsed, because there was only one person who affected Blair that much.

(He needed to know. He needed to have someone to blame).

Chuck rolled his eyes and turned to point out Damien. But there was no sign of him. He'd obviously seen Carter and scarpered - the little weasel. "Look-"

"What's going on?"

They both turned at the voice. Blair stood behind them, eyebrows raised. She avoided looking at Chuck and focused on her brother instead.

"When you said you wanted to see me, Carter, I assumed you meant alone."

"I did," Carter snarled. "Bass was just leaving. Weren't you?"

Chuck dragged his gaze away from Blair. Away from that slim, delicious figure in her blue coat and those dark eyes that refused to look at him. Her brown curls were soft in the afternoon light and whipped, lightly, by the wind. "I was." He was already turning away. He had to get back to his mission - he was going to track Damien down. And he was going to get the little creep.

Blair forced herself to watch Carter instead of Chuck's retreating figure. (His eyes had been the same dark amber as the leaves, and she shouldn't even have noticed because she shouldn't even have been looking at him). "So what did you want to talk about?"

Carter had suggested the duck pond because he knew it used to soothe her – and because it was middle ground. Not the Waldorf penthouse and not Chuck's place. He couldn't help studying his sister as he faced her; like if he looked hard enough he could somehow tell.

It had been Serena who'd noticed when Blair was fourteen, Serena who'd got in touch with the school because Blair had refused to listen to her. Carter knew that the blonde had hoped contacting Canterbury Academy would get the problem dealt with directly, rather than the humiliation of involving Blair's big brother. Blair would never have forgiven her if she'd gone straight to Carter. Because what did Carter know about eating disorders? He'd never talked about it, directly, to Blair – she'd never wanted to bring it up with him, so he'd never pushed it. He'd got the specialist to help her and report back with progress.

He knew his sister had issues with food, and he knew they stemmed back to Eleanor and Blair's need for control. But discussing them wasn't something either of them wanted to do. It would be like him telling her the specifics of his last coke bender. There were some things that a brother and sister didn't – couldn't - talk about.

But if what Evelyn had said was true...then Carter didn't have a choice. He'd considered calling Serena, but the truth was that he was sick of other people telling him what was or wasn't wrong with his sister. And he wasn't planning on taking any more chances. If she'd relapsed, then it had been since she'd got home and he needed to know. And if not, then she could tell him herself.

He repressed a sigh and pulled out the loaf of bread he'd been carrying. Blair's eyes widened, despite herself, as she glanced at it and then at him. Carter had used to mock her no end for her duck-feeding habits. He'd used to crack that the ducks probably hid in fear every time they saw her coming. The one time she'd convinced him to come – because Dorota was sick - he'd played target practice with the bread.

She arched a brow at him now. "Is this an apology?"

That made him purse his lips a little. They didn't do apologies. And he damn well wasn't apologzing because of Chuck. "For what?" He wished she'd take the bread so he didn't look like quite such a tool holding it.

She did no such thing. "For desecrating our parents' bed with Tish?" Her tone was dry as she appraised her brother - and that did make him stop. "I heard you," she assured him.

He at least felt bad enough to flinch. "You shouldn't be sneaking around," he muttered darkly. She wasn't even meant to have been _home _that night.

"I don't think you'd have heard even if I'd been stomping around." She pulled a face at the memory.

He did too. Or rather, at the fact that she'd heard it. There was silence for a moment between them. "It's an empty bed," he said at last. He didn't like thinking about just how empty it was, so he did the only thing he knew how and violated it. Anything was better than that silent space where no one dared venture. Still, that didn't mean Blair had to _hear _it. Jesus. And just because he worked like that didn't mean she did.

He glanced at her.

Oh, hell. His plan had been to give her the damn loaf so he didn't have to get his hands dirty - watching her feed the stupid birds was degrading enough.

Reluctantly, now, he tore off a piece himself and he tried not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. "So...how do I throw this, exactly? Without knocking the ducks out," he added with another sigh. "I suppose."

She smiled a little. Because she knew this was her brother's way of apologizing. Feeding the ducks in broad daylight was not something he'd ever consider doing otherwise. It was humiliation enough.

* * *

Chuck's limo pulled up next to an alley, and he waited in the car until Damien had finished with whatever sketchy guy he was doing business with. As Damien went to skulk past, he rolled down the window. "Dalgaard," he called lazily.

Damien froze. He turned and found Chuck Bass, of all people, watching him. He tried not to glower at the guy. "Can I help you?"

Chuck's mouth curved a little, his face impassive as those black eyes tracked him. "I thought I'd offer you a ride."

"I can walk," Damien snapped back. "Thanks."

"I insist," Chuck murmured. "I think it's time we talked."

Damien's eyes narrowed. Well, fine. Maybe he could use this opportunity to find out what exactly had happened with Blair - and use the information to his advantage later. Plus something about the gleam in Chuck's eye told him he'd probably be followed in the limo anyway.

Chuck moved back to let him into the car, door closing behind him. He was leaning quite comfortably on the leather seats - Damien made the mistake of picking the shorter one and suddenly felt like he was about to be interrogated. He arranged his face in a sneer anyway as he sized the other guy up. "So what are we supposed to talk about?"

Chuck, however, was pouring himself some scotch. He held out a glass for Damien; Damien snatched it from him. It burned his throat as he downed it in one, making him grimace hideously.

Chuck regarded him as he took his own langurous sip. He cocked his head. "I saw you in Central Park today," he drawled. "And in Sak's yesterday, and at Bijoux the day before." He drank a little more, in no rush, while Damien was left gripping his empty glass. "You certainly get around."

Damien's face turned an ugly colour. "Is there a reason you've been following me?" he demanded nastily.

Chuck smiled a little. It didn't reach his eyes. "How do you know I wasn't following Blair?"

That threw him for a second. Chuck smiled again and took another sip. Finally, Damien's eyes narrowed as he drew himself up. "I think I will walk." He went to toss aside the glass and Chuck made no move to stop him. The car, however, sped up. Damien glared at him in disbelief. "Tell your driver to stop."

"Don't worry," Chuck reassured him. "I'm going to drop you home. The St. Regis, isn't it?" His hand flexed on the top of the seat as he crossed his legs, easy. "I hear your father's in town too. That must be nice for you." His tone was pleasant.

Damien went puce. "Are you threatening me?" he hissed.

Chuck looked faux surprised, slow gaze flickering over the other guy. "Why would I threaten you?"

"You son of a-"

"Bitch? Accurate," Chuck reflected, "And hardly insulting. But here's the thing, Dalgaard. I'm not Humphrey. If you outstay your welcome as far as Blair's concerned - well, I _would_ want to make sure you didn't bother her again. But I'm pretty sure she knows you and your father better than I do. So honestly...this is more of a warning than a threat."

The car came to a sudden halt. Chuck glanced out of the window and then back at Damien.

"And here's your stop now." He wasn't smiling any more as his eyes moved coldly over him, dismissing him. "You're welcome."

Damien yanked the door open and climbed out. He slammed it behind him.

* * *

"Did you enjoy Lily's party?"

Blair glanced at her brother. She still didn't want to think about Lily's party - and Carter looked back for a moment like he'd sensed her reluctance. She pushed it away. "Of course. Looked like Tish did too," she added, innocent. "Her and Dan seem to have really hit it off."

As predicted, Carter's brow darkened a touch. "Well," he scoffed, "I'm sure the bumbling virgin gave her a great time."

"Actually, I don't think they ever slept together."

For a split second, Carter looked almost frozen. They hadn't slept together? But Tish lived for sex. What the hell had they been doing?

"I think Dan said they had a real intellectual connection," Blair mused. She tried to repress a smirk as she watched her brother. "Reading, going to museums..."

"Tish hates museums," Carter pointed out irritably. Unless they had cloakrooms or empty galleries to hook up in. "More like he bored her senseless."

"Well, maybe he wants to educate her. Broaden her horizons." Blair glanced at him again, sideways. "Maybe she got bored of guys assuming she's just good in bed."

It was hardly _just - _Tish was incredibly vain about being good in bed. (And she was a lot better than good). "Please," Carter rolled his eyes in disgust. "Like your little friend wasn't drooling all over her at Lily's. Just because she doesn't waste her time reading poetry," he snorted, "Doesn't mean she needs your pretentious little classmate to _educate _her."

Blair grinned secretly as she tossed another piece of bread into the pond. "You know," she said, and her tone was sweet, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sounded jealous."

Carter just gave her a look. "Don't be ridiculous." Jealous of someone like Dan Humphrey? Of a highschooler? He just thought Tish had better things to do with her time. Anyway, he remembered, annoyed - Blair was still smirking - _he _was supposed to be the one asking questions.

That sobered him up again.

"So what's happening with you and Chuck?"

Her smile disappeared, just like that. "Nothing," she snapped. Absolutely nothing. Unless you counted avoidance every hour of the day, and the fact that as soon as she stopped for even a second her thoughts moved straight back to him. Him and Raina. Him and any other girl. Him at Bass Industries - she'd seen how well he was doing - just _him._ Her willpower was meant to be so much better. She glowered at her brother now. Why the hell was he even bringing him up? "I'm sure you'll be happy to know."

Carter rolled his eyes. "I'd rather know that _you're_ happy." Blair pasued for a moment; she and Carter weren't the kind of siblings who cared and shared_._Waldorfs did not outwardly express concern for one another.

Her brother was actually being serious now - and it made her swallow. "Of course I am." It came out automatic. Was she happy? She was building a life for herself at Columbia. She'd got the internship she wanted and she was achieving. She was _more _than happy with all of that. And if she missed Chuck at all -

She didn't, she told herself. She couldn't. Blair Waldorf could be with Chuck. She couldn't, and she'd settled for that. She'd be more unhappy if she was still with him and he realised she wasn't the girl he thought she was. She'd be more unhappy if she thought for a second that he pitied her; if she _let _him pity her.

"I'm happy," she said to Carter, firmly.

Carter was silent for a moment, and she couldn't tell if he believed her or not. "I never asked you why you stopped seeing Dr. Sherman." His voice was slightly stiff when he finally spoke. They were heading into the dangerous territory of _feelings _talk that no Waldorf had ever been comfortable with. Least of all Carter. "You only went to one session. What happened?"

Blair was quiet. Then she gave a little shrug. "I realised it wasn't helping. I don't need therapy, Carter. I've had enough." God, had she had enough.

"And the dreams?"

She bit her lip. "I told you. Talking about them every day doesn't make them stop."

Carter seemed to consider this. "And everything else?"

Her eyes slanted just a bit. "What everything else?"

He exhaled, shortly. "The other therapist you saw at Canterbury. You haven't needed him at all?"

"What are you talking about?"

He looked at her, face expressionless. "You know what I'm talking about."

Her mouth opened for a second, then closed. She knew her brother. She swallowed and forced a smile. "Carter. Is this the real reason we're here?"

Carter pressed his lips together. "Just answer the question."

"No." She stared at him. "God. I haven't." She hadn't since she was fifteen. She was aware that her relationship with food - her therapist had liked that phrase - still wasn't exactly healthy, but she hadn't binged or purged in nearly four years. She'd made sure of it. The temptation crept up, sometimes, but she'd so far managed to fight it. And still the idea that Carter thought, even for a second, that she'd succumbed again -

"I haven't." It was more fierce this time.

He searched her face for a moment. He'd always used to know when his sister was lying. Until Eleanor and Harold and a summer in the Hamptons when she'd kept smiling and telling him she was fine till she'd ended up with blue lips not _breathing_ on a beach. She'd told him that she didn't know how it had happened and he'd been too terrified, then - still - to work out if she was lying or not. She'd told him she'd stopped having nightmares and then he'd caught her, seven years after they'd supposedly stopped, sobbing in the night. She'd told him there was nothing going on with Chuck -

But her eyes were burning now and he'd never seen her look more determined. He'd asked her, and she'd told him. And the truth was that eating disorders were always something Carter had scorned, mocked, made sick jokes of - anorexic models and in-house bulimics - but when it came to his sister, he was out of his league because it wasn't quite so funny any more. And maybe it was because he wasn't a girl, and maybe it was because he was her brother - but he couldn't bring himself to push her. Not on this.

"Ok."

She turned away so he didn't see just how furiously her teeth were pressed into her lip. Just at the mention of it. Just at the suggestion that there was something else she couldn't deal with when she'd been _fighting_ to do so for so long. She couldn't face asking him if he actually believed her. If he really was convinced. Because he'd asked in the first place, hadn't he?

She was so _sick _of this.

* * *

Blair eventually slipped away claiming work, but it was too late. Her good mood had been destroyed. She threw herself into the tasks Epperly had set her that afternoon - her review was glowing, and she was pleased - but the frustration still seethed through her, bubbling inside. When was it ever going to be enough?

Serena had been planning on a night out for all of them, and Blair was so wound up now that she was already dreading it. She wanted to forget. She didn't want that reminder, and she didn't want to deal with having to see Chuck. If they went out and she had to watch girls falling over him - because this was exactly what she'd asked for, and it made her feel so sick. (And if she was trying to convince Carter that she damn well hadn't relapsed, feeling sick probably wasn't the best idea). It still _hurt. _Not because she didn't know exactly who Chuck was, but because it reminded her that less than a month ago none of those girls would even have existed because she'd had him. Except she'd never really _had _him. The girl she _wanted _to be had him. And she wanted him so much - so badly - all of him, that she'd let herself forget that and it _hurt._

"Blair?" She was on the verge of leaving the office when Epperly stopped her, looking stressed as ever. "Denise has just called in sick, and she was supposed to be covering the shoot tonight. Can you do it?"

Finally, something good - Blair didn't even hesitate. "Of course!" She was smiling already. Not only was this an amazing opportunity, but she now had the perfect excuse to cancel on Serena tonight. And, more importantly, something else to focus on.

Perfect.

* * *

Serena lay flushed and contented on Nate's bare chest, loosely dressed in his shirt as he sighed happily. "What time is it?" he murmured, glancing over her mane of blonde hair to the clock. Then he let out a little groan. "Oh, man. I was meant to be at my mom's half an hour ago." He leaned back against the pillow, though, because the last thing he felt like doing was moving.

Serena made a little noise. "Mmm. And Blair's meant to calling to let me know what time she finishes tonight." She propped herself up on her elbows, reaching her phone. She frowned when she saw the text from her best friend. _Sorry S, Epperly needs me. Raincheck on tonight? _She let out a little sigh. She shouldn't really have been that surprised - she knew how crazy Blair had gone the past month throwing herself into work.

"She's busy again?" Nate peered over her shoulder to read the text.

"More W stuff," Serena confirmed. She sat up, running a hand through her golden hair as she dropped her cell. "I feel like I haven't seen her for weeks," she complained. And she realised Nate was right - she'd take fighting with Blair any day over not seeing her at all.

"Her or Chuck," Nate muttered in agreement. "He's working late again too." He'd been feeling pretty deprived of his own best friend. He'd always known that Chuck and Blair were driven, but...still. Chuck lately had been like a man possessed, and Nate wished it could be summer again - everything had been so easy in the Hamptons. "So I guess this means another night of take-out and guitar hero," he said glumly.

Serena smiled at his morose tone. "I know it's hard losing all the time."

His eyes widened. "Hey! I told you, I was off-game last night."

She just shook her head. "Five games to one, Nate. You kind of suck." Her eyes sparkled as he winced. "Or," she suggested as a better idea struck, "We could go the Brandy Bar and get really drunk?"

His grin was immediate. "I like that plan."

She grinned too. Chuck and Blair did not know what they were missing. She watched her boyfriend heave himself out of bed, reaching for his pants in preparation for his mother's. "Meet you at eight?" She was very tempted to pull him back down onto the mattress with her, though. Just once more. He also looked sorely tempted; in fact, he was just leaning in for another kiss when his phone went.

Anne, of course, asking where he was. He let out a final sigh, smiling reluctantly, and kissed Serena one last time before disappearing.

Serena stretched on the sheets. She was debating taking a shower when her own phone rang. And her brow furrowed when she saw who was calling. She picked it up in surprise.

"Carter?"

* * *

Blair was in her element at the fashion show. The owner of the company was a young Frenchwoman who looked set to establish her label as one of Manhattan's top new brands. In other words, this was exactly the kind of experience Blair needed.

Interning at W had kept her busy with articles and parties and office work; it had been a long time since she'd actually come this close to the fashion world again. Not since she'd used to go with Eleanor to the Waldorf Designs show every year. She remembered always sitting backstage with Serena - and she felt a harsh pang, now, that the blonde wasn't here with her. She knew that the only hope she had of establishing herself was to do so away from her best friend, but she _missed_ her. How could she not?

And she suddenly felt strangely lonely as she realised she didn't know a single face in the room. There was no one here to see this. She was supposed to be doing this for herself. There was nobody to share it with, to tell her if she was doing well. Just like there had been no one at boarding school - no one who mattered - to tell her she was getting it and doing it right. But then what did she want? Eleanor to pat her head because she'd made it to a fashion show by herself?

(She remembered talking about it with Chuck, remembered Chuck telling her he couldn't _wait _to see her ordering people around at her own fashion shows-)

No. She needed to carve her own path. At the moment her brother didn't even think she was capable of getting through the day without therapy. How was she meant to prove to them - all of them - that she wasn't _weak, _unless she did this by herself? Some of that frustration from earlier was threatening to creep back in, so she resolved to throw herself back into the show.

She was just finishing up an interview with the owner of the comapny herself when she spotted someone she did know.

"Toby?"

He turned, and his face lit up as he recognised her. "Blair!" He glanced at her quizically as he moved over. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm doing a piece for W." She raised an eyebrow. "Why are you here?" Because of all the places she might have expected to see him, she realised, a fashion show wasn't one of them. He came a little closer, and she noticed that he looked almost relieved as he slipped in next to her.

"My father's company is in the middle of signing a deal with Matilde Designs." (She wondered how long Waldorf Designs would be _her mother's company_before she actually started to think of it as her own. Would she ever?) Toby paused as his eyes scanned the room. "I, uh, came because I know nothing about fashion and I somehow thought this would help. Apparently not," he admitted wryly. He accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, taking one to give to Blair as well. "Though at least they're better with the drinks here." He glanced at her clipboard and smiled a little. "But you actually look like you do belong here." He tilted his head. "Shall I let you get back to work?"

Blair glanced at him as his eyes twinkled, warm, down at her. And there it was again - this was _easy_. He was cute. And he...liked her. Well, he'd said he did. He looked, simply, pleased to see her. And despite herself, she couldn't deny that it was nice to see him too. Why was it so easy? Because Toby didn't know any of it - didn't know Blair Waldorf or the girl she'd become at boarding school, didn't know about therapy or bulimia or any of the things she hated about herself. The truth was that he was far too nice for someone like her and she knew it. But he didn't know her, she remembered. He didn't know that.

She wouldn't have to worry that she was living up to or failing to meet any expectations. Because he had none. He didn't represent the worst parts of herself like Damien did, and he didn't represent the best parts of herself like Chuck did. He didn't _know _the worst parts of herself like Chuck did. He wasn't Chuck.

If she let it, this could actually be simple. Too bad tonight wasn't going to be the night she let it. She had work to do, and she couldn't afford to let herself get distracted.

"Sorry," she admitted, almost rueful. She was apologising more, she realised, because she actually would've enjoyed spending time with him. But her future came first.

"Well, can I convince you to get a drink me with once you finish?" he enquired. He grinned at her, gentle. "If you want."

She hesitated. "I doubt you'll still be here by the time I'm finished."

He gave her a little shrug. "I'm fine as long as they keep the champagne coming."

Her mouth twitched despite herself, and he smiled. He wasn't Chuck. He didn't smirk like Chuck. But even she had to admit that he had a good smile. She allowed herself to smile back before she returned to work.

* * *

Chuck had been in a conference for most of the evening; he checked his phone, now, as he headed for the car. Gossip Girl had been busy.

_Spotted : B hard at work. Looks like fashion has finally been reunited with a Waldorf...is B stepping into Eleanor's shoes at long last? We hear Dan Humphrey supposedly works for W too - but if that's the case, why is B the only one we ever see on the job?_

Chuck gazed down at the picture of her, mouth curving to himself as he took in her gorgeous black dress and look of concentration. She looked like she was doing brilliantly. And she'd die before she admitted it, but she'd been nervous about getting back into her mother's world. He knew she'd never needed to be.

She looked like she was doing so well that his smile hurt. Because he suddenly wished he could be there, wished he could tell her -

Wished he could be there to celebrate with her. She looked so proud and so determined and so Blair in that one stupid photo that it made him ache. He checked the next message, a more recent blast - and the photo attached to this one was enough to stop him in his tracks altogether. She had her back to the camera, but there was some guy smiling down at her and the look in his eyes was obvious. Amused. Attracted. It made Chuck feel sick even before he read the caption Gossip Girl had posted with it.

_Just when we thought she was doing so well. This definitely isn't C - what would your parents say, B?_

The guy was into her, that much was clear. Of course he was. But what hurt ten times worse was the fact that Gossip Girl had essentially spelt it out; Blair was making her own decisions. It felt like a punch to his stomach, even as he was dimly aware that he probably had no right for it to be. It wasn't even about the guy, perfect as he looked - it was the thought that Blair was moving on. Which was what he'd stupidly decided he wanted, except now that fierce savage selfish part of him was demanding to know how. How could he _want _her to move on? How could she move on when they were inevitable and both of them had always known -

He was the one who'd thrown Raina in her face. He was the one who hadn't told her he loved her and let her slip away. Because, he reminded himself, she didn't deserve to have their parents' expectations rammed down her throat and he was selfish - she was selfish too, but that wasn't the point - and he didn't want her to have to become a Bass and he wanted her to be happy. (Happy like he'd been the moment she'd got back from boarding school). Carter was right, he did have a special skill for hurting her. Hurting people _was _his special skill - he'd got that from Evelyn. However much he denied it, inevitably, always, he would end up hurting even her.

But his attempt to be rational was doing nothing to ease the furious anguish in his chest at the mere idea that she'd found someone better. That she was over him.

He gazed at the photo and still that sense of burning pride for her, the bitterness and the pain that he wasn't there to see it for himself and the knowledge that he didn't have a right to be - he wanted to hate her, but he couldn't stop the sting of pleasure because she was working so hard and getting what she wanted and he was so proud it _hurt._

* * *

Blair had seen the blast too.

It was gone eleven by the time the show had started winding down - and Toby was still there. He told her he'd got into a great conversation on the topic of Coco Chanel '28 versus '29, and the time had flown by. But Blair was distracted, mind still on the blast. Chuck was going to see it, and she wanted to feel a sense of triumph that she might be able to make him jealous like he had with Raina. That he might think she'd moved on, and she'd show him she didn't need his pity. He didn't need to know that she hadn't.

But the thought that he might not care was a hundred times worse; the thought that it was transparent just how desperate she was, and another kick in the teeth, again, at the mention of her parents. Like Chuck needed another reminder. And she was also aware that hers weren't the only parents - if Evelyn saw this, then she'd no doubt put even more pressure on Chuck. So there'd be even more tension in the Bass household.

"What's wrong?" A smile quirked Toby's mouth as he watched her. "Is now not the time to talk about hemlines?"

She forced a smile back. "No, it's...nothing."

He hesitated for a moment and then raised his phone. "This isn't anything to do with Gossip Girl, is it?" He looked almost sheepish.

Her eyes snapped to his, surprised.

"I did go to Dalton," he admitted. "Although she barely posted anything about our school."

"Do you read her?"

"Not normally," he laughed. "Since I don't know any of the people she blogs about. But I did notice the photo of me just now. I didn't realise talking to you would make me so famous."

"Right," Blair muttered.

He glanced down at the same photo she was looking at. "So should I be expecting an angry call from your parents?"

"No." She breathed out. "My parents are...dead." She fixed a smile on her face to show that it didn't matter. If he even dared pity her -

His eyes widened. "I'm so sorry," he said softly. And then she remembered that his father had only just died - he was the freshly bereaved one. Not her.

"It was a long time ago," she answered, crisp, and after a moment he nodded. She let out a short breath, pulling herself together, and then aimed a more brilliant smile in his direction. Anything to stop talking about _parents._ "Why don't we get that drink?"

Toby's mouth turned upwards, obliging, as he regarded her for a moment. "C won't mind?" His eyes still shone, but his tone was serious. He was asking her.

Blair only hesitated for a fraction of a second. "He's moved on." She managed not to flinch at the memory of Raina. "And...so have I." So the last part was still a lie, but if she willed it to be true then it would be. It would. She wanted to go back to this nice person who didn't know anything about her past. (And she'd make sure Gossip Girl didn't catch them again so that Evelyn didn't get wind). "Let me just get my bag."

* * *

When she got back to the penthouse, the hall lights were dimmed. There was no sound of guitar hero or noisy sex, so Nate and Serena had to be out. She moved into the living room - and he was sitting there. Of course. At the bar with a glass of scotch. Just him. He was propped up idly, his dark hair flawless and his eyes deeper gold than the liquid in front of him. The cut of his cheekbones was smooth and pale as he watched her.

She swallowed and set her bag down.

"Good night?" he drawled.

She tried to ignore his penetrating gaze.

"It was great," she answered stiffly. Defiantly.

"I'm surprised to see you home so soon," he remarked as his eyes flickered to his drink and then back to her, expresionless.

"I'm surprised to see you alone," she shot back. "Did you finally figure out what Raina was up to?"

"You sound disappointed," he murmured in response to the first part of what she'd said. "Raina's back in Chicago." He'd managed to drag up one of her particularly clingy exes and run her out of town. He smirked now, and it was savage. "But if I'd known you were into threesomes, Waldorf, I would've asked her to stay longer." He swallowed his drink as he gazed at her with slanted eyes. "It would've been interesting to see if you could keep up." The idea of Raina anywhere near Blair repulsed him, but he coudn't stop himself pushing for her reaction.

"Don't you mean throw up?" Her eyes flashed now. He couldn't tell if that tremor was anger or revulsion. But she got a hold of herself and turned away. "I'm going to bed."

Something about the words, her rigid tone and the way her face shuttered reminded him of...Bart, he realised. But Blair was nothing like Bart and it wasn't Bart he was thinking of. It was Evelyn. He was doing exactly what Evelyn always did. Blair saw something flicker across his face and it made her still, just for a moment.

His lip twisted under the heat of those brown eyes. He was every inch as bad as Evelyn. "I meant to ask, actually. Toby Lloyd-Davis? Have you decided on a new investor for Waldorf Designs already?"

The mention of her mother's company made her flinch as expected. When all he really wanted to ask was if she liked him, if she'd kissed him. (She did like him, which surprised her and confirmed that she was never going to find anyone she wanted as much as Chuck because Toby was practically perfect; and she hadn't kissed him, because she hadn't been able to. So much for moving on).

She was saved answering when the elevator doors opened and two incredibly inebriated blondes tumbled in.

"Blair! Chuck!" Serena leapt at them - and Nate, who'd been holding her up, stumbled unsteadily with a wide grin on his face.

"Hey-"

"You missed out," Serena informed her best friends. "We did shots. And karaoke."

Oh, God. Not kararoke. Both Chuck and Blair winced at the thought of Nate and Serena's drunken singing. No doubt that bar had been cleared out in seconds.

"Yeah," Nate agreed as he leaned on the side. He gave Chuck a serious look. "Now who's the wild one, huh?"

Chuck sighed. "Still not you."

The blond looked most put out. Then he and Serena glanced between the two of them, and a grin started again. "So...what were you two doing here? Alone?"

"I knew it!" Serena burst in. "You're hooking up again. I _knew _no one could work that hard. All those study groups," she giggled.

"And meetings," Nate finished. "You've been together the whole time!" They looked at each other, satisfied that they'd worked it out.

"No," Chuck said tartly. "Some of us just have ambition."

Serena smirked and tapped his nose. "And some of us can't stay away from each other."

Blair swiftly moved in to pull at her best friend's arm, and she avoided looking at Chuck. "Come on, S. Let's get you to bed."

"I'm only going to bed," Serena sighed, draping her own long arms over Blair, "If you come with me." She leaned happily into the brunette. "I missed you, B." For a moment Blair let herself bury her face in that blonde hair, under the guise of helping her friend stay upright.

"I miss you too." It was barely audible. Then she yanked at the blonde again. "Come," she instructed. "Shower awaits." Her nose wrinkled a little. "Because you smell like a brewery floor."

"She does," Nate confirmed proudly.

"And so do you," Chuck muttered. "Come on, Archibald."

"They're gonna share a bed too," Serena whispered not-so-subtly in Blair's ear. She tossed a grin at the two boys. "Enjoy!"

Blair rolled her eyes and hauled her away. (Anything was better than looking back at Chuck).

Chuck guided his own drunk best friend away from the bar; Nate went happily enough, only pausing to nudge Chuck's shoulder with his. "You love her, man."

Chuck pushed him in the direction of his room. He was glad it was dark, glad Nate was too drunk to ackowledge the expression on his face - and most of all glad that Blair hadn't heard that.


	17. Chapter 17

_'Who wants to sleep in a city than never wakes up_

_Blinded by nostalgia?' _

* * *

Nate slumped into the breakfast room the next morning looking very much worse for wear. He reached blearily for the coffee as he sat down, noting Serena's grimace as she downed her own cup. In contrast to her best friend's dressing gown and messy blonde hair, Blair was pert and immaculate in a neat red dress and flawless dark waves. She smirked a little at her friends as she slid a strawberry into her mouth.

"Sleep well?"

Nate managed a yawn in response.

"Well, he was snoring enough," Chuck drawled. He took his own seat at the table and moved to straighten his crimson tie. He too was already impeccably dressed, suited and crisp-eyed. He was closing a deal with Bart that afternoon, and he didn't intend on being even a step behind.

Blair quite deliberately ignored him. He ignored her back.

But even they couldn't resist exchanging the briefest eye-roll as Serena groaned and dropped her head in her hands. "I'm never drinking again." (They yanked their eyes away from each other afterwards, pretending it hadn't happened.)

"You should add karaoke to that list," Blair advised, pushing over her phone. There was a video from Gossip Girl. The four of them winced as recorded off-key singing filled the room.

"Make it stop," Nate moaned.

"With pleasure," came Chuck's mutter.

Blair was just finishing the last of her tea, ready to head to class, when one of the maids appeared from the bedroom she'd been cleaning. "Sorry to interrupt," she glanced round the four of them - their usual maid was off for the week - "But I was just wondering...uh, what do you want me to do with the food?"

Serena looked confused. "What food?"

"All the boxes under the bed," the maid explained. "Just in that room there? I mean, should I leave them, or -"

They followed to where she'd pointed. She was looking at Blair's room. Blair had gone very still. _What?_

"I just wanted to vacuum."

Nate appeared completely bemused as Serena glanced at her best friend. "What food?" she asked again.

"I have no idea what she's talking about," Blair snapped back, getting to her feet. "There's no food in my room."

It was the maid's turn to look confused now; Serena told her softly to go. She followed her best friend into the bedroom, praying that this was all some kind of misunderstanding. There was a box peeping out from under the bed. It had clearly been disturbed by the maid. A box, Serena saw with sickening certainty, filled with pastries, chocolates, macaroons...And under the bed, hidden from view, more boxes.

Blair felt sick just looking at them. "These aren't mine." She stared at them, uncomprehending. Where the hell had these even come from? "The maid must've-"

She stopped when she saw the expression on Serena's face.

"S, you can't seriously think those are mine? I have no idea where they're from!"

Serena sensed the edge in her voice and closed the bedroom door, trying to calm her down. Blair was painfully aware of the fact that the boys were still out there – Chuck was still out there – as she turned on her best friend.

"They're not mine. I've never seen them before."

"Blair," Serena murmured. Her voice was soothing but Blair had already seen the trouble in those blue eyes. "It's ok-"

"No," Blair hissed. "It's not! Those aren't mine. Someone put them there."

Serena was silent for a moment. "Who put them there, B?" she asked at last, very quietly. Asking her to explain.

"That maid." Blair's voice had turned vicious as she went to grab the door. She was going to get to the woman and demand to know -

"Why would a maid hide food under your bed?" Serena begged.

"I don't know! But it wasn't me."

Serena took her best friend's arms, stopping her. "Blair. You can tell me anything, you know that. Anything."

Blair grit her teeth together. "They're not mine."

This was absurd. How could Serena not believe her? The sight of all that food repulsed her and it _hadn't _been her. Was that seriously what Serena thought? That she was stocking away piles of food and binging, stuffing it all when no one was looking? Even the thought of that made her feel sick. The shame. Shame, and it wasn't even hers.

"B-"

Blair stared at Serena. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I want to," the blonde pleaded again. "I just..." Her gaze slid back to the food, helpless, and Blair felt bile rise in her throat. She shoved Serena off.

"I told you it wasn't me. I don't know how they got there, and if you don't believe me then that's your problem." Her voice wavered dangerously. Serena went to grab her again, but Blair yanked away. She suddenly couldn't bear to be in the same room as her – to see the look in her eyes, the assumption she'd already jumped to. She was going to find that maid and find out what the hell was going on. (And it hurt, even more than Carter yesterday, because it was Serena and she knew more about this than anyone, and if_ she_ didn't believe her-) "I'm going to class."

Nate and Chuck were still in other room; she just caught a flash of Nate's concerned, bewildered face before she threw herself into the elevator. She couldn't look at Chuck. She was too terrified of what she might see on his face. She couldn't.

Serena came back out of the room a moment later. Nate glanced at her. She looked drawn even underneath her hangover.

"Is everything ok?" he asked warily as she slumped down next to him. His hand covered hers, instinctive, but he knew that some things were between the girls and the girls alone. Things that he and Chuck didn't talk about.

"I don't know," Serena mumbled. She ran a hand through her hair in agitation. Then she stood, abruptly. "I need to call Carter." She seemed to almost be justifying it to herself. (She didn't know what else to do.)

Nate shot Chuck a worried look. Call Carter? But he knew better than to question it. He trusted that Serena knew what she was doing. Chuck regarded her for a moment; his eyes narrowed, imperceptible. "Does she want you to?" he drawled. "Because if not," he stated, "She's going to hate you."

"Yeah, Chuck." Serena tore her gaze away. "But I love her." She moved away from the table and went to retrieve her cell.

* * *

Blair had thrown herself into school and work all day in the attempt to keep her mind off Serena. Off the image of the food in those boxes. She worked so hard that she ended up finishing at W an hour earlier than expected; and Epperly told her that after the great work she'd done at the Matilde Designs show, she was free to go.

That had put the spring back in her step. Enough, she decided. She was going to go home and tell Serena flat out that the boxes weren't hers. She hadn't been able to track the maid down yet - but she would. And then Serena would realise that she'd been wrong. That Blair wasn't weak. Serena _had _to see; Serena knew her. All this time Blair had spent hiding from her best friend - she had to stop. (She tried to force Chuck's words out of her head, but she couldn't._ I know exactly who you are. Do does Serena, and so does Nate. You really think trying to cut us out is going to make us any less aware? You really think we could ever not know you?_)

And she_ had_ been cutting them out. But it had taken seeing the boxes today to make her realise. She wasn't that person any more. Seeing them had made her ashamed because of who she used to be - but there was no reason for shame, she realised. Not now. She was better than that now. And Serena was going to see that.

She expected the penthouse to be empty by the time she returned. But, to her surprise, she heard voices as she stepped out of the elevator. Something prickled at the back of her neck. Perhaps that was what made her pause before she went to greet Serena. Something was wrong. She could feel it. And then - then she recognised Carter's voice.

What the hell was he doing here?

She stepped closer to the closed doors, silent now. She dimly remembered another time she'd come creeping into a penthouse to hear her brother's voice. And the voice of a certain other person that, thankfully, wasn't here now. Because just like that time - they were talking about her. She heard her name and she went very still.

"...Shouldn't be back for while." That was Serena's murmur. "I just...don't you think this is all a bit much?"

"No." Carter sounded tight. "I think it's necessary."

"You know she what she's like when she's cornered. Ambushing her-"

"Is the only way she'll listen. Enough, Serena."

Blair was rooted to the spot for a second. And all the bile rushed to her throat again. Serena had contacted Carter. Serena didn't believe her. Carter didn't believe her. They thought all that food was hers. They thought she was that _disgusting_. She felt sudden panic claw her insides. _Ambushing her. _They were going to ambush her. They were going to accuse her of something she hadn't done - and, worse still, it sounded like they'd already made up their minds.

She was nearly shaking as she spun on her heel - shame, fury, loathing and humiliation - and made straight for the elevator again. She jabbed the button for the door to close, grip impossibly tight on her bag as the compartment descended. Not fast enough. She had to get away. She had to _get out._

Her heels echoed loudly in the foyer as she headed for the exit, trying to move as quickly as possible and keep her pace under control at the same time so that it didn't look like she was running, and her jaw was clenched so tightly that she almost didn't see him.

Almost.

"Waldorf."

He was coming in as she was going out - and he was blocking her exit. There was rain jewelled on his grey coat, his dark hair swept by the wind. One look at those golden eyes, and the panic nearly overwhelmed her. He couldn't see her like this. Did he know? Was he with them? (He couldn't be with them. He couldn't). Serena, Carter, _Chuck -_

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"Get out of my way." It was almost a hiss, desperate, as she tried to push past him.

"Blair-"

"I said _move_, Chuck!"

He moved. But just as she thought she'd got round him, his hand suddenly closed around her wrist. The heat of his fingers stunned her; she reacted like she'd been bitten, twisting violently.

"What are you-"

His voice was very low. "Where are you going?"

"_What_?" she snarled. "Did they send you down to the door to keep guard? Let go of me!"

His eyes moved over her, unflinching, and he opened his mouth - but there was the sound of the elevator behind them at that moment. Carter's voice. They must've heard her leave.

Blair jerked in Chuck's hold as her gaze shot to her brother. Her best friend. "_Please_, Chuck." Her brown eyes were wild, burning into his, and he swore he could feel the desperate thump of her heart so close to his. "Just let me go."

And then the grip on her wrist was gone and she was slipping into the nearest cab, yanking the door closed behind her as she told the driver to step on it.

_Anywhere but here._

And she couldn't let herself wonder just why Chuck had let her go, and she couldn't let herself explore the lump of _something_ in her throat that had formed because of it.

* * *

"The meeting's over, Chuck. You're too late."

Bart's face was cold as he regarded his son. Chuck hadn't been able to get away from his penthouse because Carter and Serena were both going so crazy; he'd actually had to talk Serena out of calling the police. Blair was nearly nineteen, for Christ's sake. Carter had been about ready to punch him. Carter, who never bothered with physical violence, had ended up with his hands fisted on Chuck's hundred-dollar shirt. Those blue eyes had burned with cold hatred.

Chuck had only intended on dropping back to pick up his plans. (Although he was aware that the longer he stayed in the penthouse with them, the further away Blair would get).

He'd eventually turned up at Bass Industries to find the conference room empty. Bart hadn't picked up when he called. Which was why he was now standing in his parents' apartment in front his father's desk. In front of the man's impassive gaze.

"I came to find out what I missed," Chuck answered, curtly.

"I don't know why you bothered." Bart returned to his paperwork. "You're off the account."

Chuck ground his teeth. He knew his father had just been waiting, all along, for an excuse to throw him off. He knew Bart had never trusted him. But that didn't make it burn any less now. "I made one mistake."

Bart didn't even look at him. "And the company can't afford it."

For a moment, Chuck stared at him in absolute loathing. Loathing was better than hurt. "Fine," he bit. He gave a snort. "You should be thanking me, really. At least you can pretend you have an excuse to get rid of me now." He'd already turned away.

Bart was silent - silent until his son reached the door. "Chuck." It jumped out, stiff. Chuck glanced back. He wondered for a split second if his father was actually going to say something - if -

Bart let out a short breath and his face went blank again. Chuck saw it. The moment was gone, if it had ever been there at all. "I'd also appreciate you not using the investigator I fund for little games with your friends."

More criticism, of course. Chuck just gave him a look disgust. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I found the reports," Bart replied shortly. "In your room."

Chuck's lip curled in disbelief. "What reports?"

He received an arched eyebrow back. Bart looked almost weary. "Blair Waldorf, Chuck."

Chuck just stared at him. Seriously, what was his father on? "You're saying you found reports of Blair Waldorf in my room...and you think I ordered them?" His lip was still twisted. "Why the hell would I need an investigator to_ tell_ me about Blair?"

Bart's eyes narrowed; he watched his son for a moment. And then his face turned cold, heavy. It hadn't been Chuck. Chuck's room was the perfect place to hide anything - he obviously had no intention of returning there, and it was the last place Bart would usually go. He glanced at the boy and saw that he'd realised the same thing.

The elevator chimed.

"Charles." Evelyn came to a stop, smiling narrowly as her eyes fell on her son, flickering to her husband. "Well." It was a satisfied murmur. "This is a surprise."

She wasn't prepared for the icy hatred in her son's eyes - the sudden black rage as he looked at her. "You had her investigated."

Evelyn simply raised a brow. "You'll have to be a little more specific, darling." There was a note of danger there.

Chuck paid it no heed. "You found out about the eating disorder." He was almost feral as that gaze slanted. "And you paid that maid, didn't you?"

His mother rolled her eyes. Chuck was aready heading for the exit.

"Where are you going, Charles?" she enquired.

"To fix this." His hiss echoed as he slammed the door behind him, and then he was gone.

Bart's eyes moved to his wife. His face was expressionless. "What was that?" Why _that_, of all things?

She met his cold gaze with ease, and her black eyes gleamed. "The girl has a problem, Bartholomew. I was just getting her the attention she needed. You can't ignore these things, can you?" The words were from years ago and she threw them right back in his face. "I just hope they help her. That's all the people who care want to do, isn't it? _Help._ Maybe if she's lucky they'll throw her in the Ostroff Centre too."

Bart didn't react. "Did you really think an eating disorder would push her back to Chuck?"

She just laughed. No, she'd decided that Blair Waldorf needed breaking and that had seemed like the perfect way to do it. Convince enough people that someone's weak and the person themselves will start believing it too. "I can't speak for Blair. But I happen to know that Chuck is just like his father - any excuse to interfere, and he'll take it." Her smirk curled as she regarded her husband. "He's diving right back into her life as we speak." She laughed again, rich. "What's wrong, Bartholomew? Do I make you _sick_?"

Bart evenly ignored her. "I have work to do."

Not once. Not a single reaction. "And I have a lawyer to fuck," Evelyn sighed. "Don't let me keep you." She stalked out.

Bart was silent as he picked up his paperwork.

* * *

Blair stared at the text. She'd been ignoring her phone, which had rung non-stop since she'd got in the taxi. But she hadn't been able to stop herself from reading the text from _him -_

_It was Evelyn, I have proof. Come home. C._

Her heart hammered. For a moment the Evelyn part barely even registered because; he didn't think she'd done it. Chuck. How had he -

_Come home._

Except she didn't want to go back to Serena and Carter.

She didn't want to admit it - she fought to push it aside, to deny it, but it was rising with the lump in her throat. How had he known? Why had he done this for her?

She wanted to know _why. _She wanted to go back to him.

* * *

She was in such a hurry to get to the Bass penthouse, heart still thudding, that it took her a second to realise that Chuck wasn't in. She realised too late that he must've gone straight to his own apartment. Straight to Carter and Serena.

"Blair?"

She paused as she saw that Bart had emerged from his study and was now appraising her.

"Mr. Bass." She cleared her throat. "I was just looking for Chuck."

"Last I saw he was looking for you." Bart's tone was dry.

"Oh. Right." Now she looked like a fool. Running all over the city like a madwoman. Why the hell hadn't she just called him? Bart still had an eyebrow raised, and she cast around for a topic before she could make her hasty retreat. "So how was the meeting today?" Lame. "I know Chuck spent a long time prepping." Great, now she sounded like his stalker too.

"He never showed." Bart was brusque, clearly set on getting back to his own work anyway.

"What?" Blair frowned. "I - that's impossible." There was no way Chuck would have missed that meeting - she'd seen all the work he'd put into it.

"Clearly," Bart responded, "He had more pressing matters to attend to."

"He wouldn't have missed it unless he had a very good reason," Blair shot back. Then she remembered who she was talking to and hastily managed a sweeter tone. "Or unless it wasn't his fault."

Bart glanced at her for a second. His blue eyes were cool. "A very good reason."

"Yes. So don't punish him for it." Her eyes slanted before it occurred to her, again, that this was _not _how she should be speaking to Bart Bass. "Anyway, I should...go find him."

"Hm."

"Good night, Mr. Bass." She was quick to move away.

* * *

This time she was coming in as he was going out; and she froze in front of him, in the door of the foyer, staring at those dark amber eyes. His face was unreadable.

"I explained it to them. They've calmed down."

Her voice stuck in her throat. "Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me?" he asked, humourlessly. "My mother is the reason this even happened."

"And I'm not thanking her," she answered as her eyes narrowed, still gazing at him. "I'm thanking _you_." She swallowed. "How did you know?"

His mouth curled, almost painful. "She used our PI to look you up." Blair made a noise. It was hardly surprising, after all - she was amazed Evelyn hadn't done it earlier. Chuck paused for a moment and then handed her a slip of paper. "The maid's number," he murmured. It had been with the report in his room. "I figured you'd want to fire her and threaten legal action yourself."

Her fingers brushed his as she accepted the slip. She swallowed and looked away. "Thank you." They weren't used to thanking each other.

But if Evelyn had never got involved, Chuck thought, bitter, then none of this would even have happened. It shouldn't be gratitude that Blair was giving him at all.

"I'll see you later," he managed brusquely before he left.

Blair's fingers curled over the paper. Chuck couldn't even look at her. She exhaled and moved to the elevator, forcing herself not to watch him walk away.

She was exhausted, she realised.

* * *

"B!" The blonde was cutting off her exit from class, a determined light in her eyes. She folded her arms. "You can't ignore me forever."

Blair had gone straight to bed last night, avoiding Carter and Serena. She hadn't been able to face them. Carter had slouched off home in the end - unrepentant, Blair knew - and Serena had eventually given up knocking on her door. Blair had been too tired to even cry.

She had no choice but to stop now. "I'm not ignoring you." Her tone was clipped. She went to step round, but Serena caught her.

"Look," she begged. "I said I'm sorry for going to Carter. But I didn't know what else to do - you didn't give me a choice."

Blair's face whitened, dangerously. "_I _didn't give you a choice? So you still think this was all me?"

"No," Serena groaned. "Of course not. But B, if you'd just told me to begin with-"

"I did tell you!" Blair stared at her best friend in fury. "I told you they weren't mine. I told you it wasn't me. And you didn't listen."

"But you ran away," Serena insisted. "Instead of talking about it, you ran off to class. What was I supposed to think?"

"You were supposed to believe me," Blair snapped back. "How many times did you need telling?"

"B," Serena murmured at last. "If I'd believed you four years ago, you never would've got help in the first place. And you needed it then."

"It was nearly five years ago," Blair corrected, but she was nearly grinding her teeth in frustration. "And that was _then._ You don't think I've made any progress since?"

Progress by herself. Progress when Serena and Carter weren't there to threaten 'interventions', to second guess her. Progress when Serena wasn't _there._

She deflated. It sank in her stomach, a horrible pit. A dull light had entered her eyes - a light that Serena didn't understand. "B-"

"I'm going to the accommodation office," Blair cut her off. The blonde looked at her in confusion. "And I'm going to ask to move into dorms." She couldn't do this anymore.

Serena's eyes widened in horror. "B, don't be crazy-"

"I'm not," Blair murmured. "But I will be if I go on living with you." She looked at her best friend for a moment and shook her head. Miserable. "And so will you."

* * *

Chuck was towelling his hair dry when his cell went. He paused before he picked it up. Bart. Had Evelyn done something else? He didn't think he could take any more.

"What's wrong?"

His father sounded vaguely irritated. "It's ten o'clock. Where are you?"

Chuck blinked in actual confusion. Where was he? Where else would he be? There was no way, surely, that Bart was talking about the office. "I thought I'd been fired," he bit at last.

Bart ignored that. "We have a meeting in half an hour. Make sure you're prepared." He hung up.

Chuck stared at his cell. His father was taking him back? He was actually giving him another chance? Chuck genuinely couldn't believe it. What the hell had changed the old man's mind?

There was a noise at the elevators.

He turned to see Blair. (Wasn't she meant to be in class?) She looked pale, he noticed. Pale and beautiful in a black and white shift dress - and was seeing her ever going to stop hurting? He managed to stop gazing at her, clearing his throat.

"Serena was looking for you."

"I know."

He glanced at her. "Did you forget something?"

Her eyes moved over his still damp hair, trying to ignore the pang at how mussed it was. She forced it away. "I need to tell you something." He saw the lump in her throat. "I'm...moving out."

He studied her as he tried to make sense of her words. "Carter-"

She shook her head. "I haven't told Carter yet."

Chuck was still. "Then why?"

She couldn't quite look at him. "Because I can't do this anymore." Her voice trembled, just for one second. She couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand admitting it to him - she'd come here to thank him and all she was doing was coming across weak and pathetic.

There was a silence.

"I didn't think there was anything Blair Waldorf couldn't do," Chuck murmured at last, almost raw as his eyes moved over her. He tried to make it light like he was joking, but he struggled to work out what she meant. Because she _could _do anything. What had made living here so suddenly unbearable?

Then he wondered why he'd even had to think about it.

What had made Carter and Serena turn against her? What had dragged her back into the past and refused to let go? Evelyn. Waiting at every step to sabotage her. He wanted to swear to her that it would never happen again, that he could stop his mother.

But he couldn't.

"I understand." It was stiff.

Blair looked at him, and there was a flicker in her eyes that he couldn't quite read. Then she quickly pulled them away. "Oh. Well, thank you."

She'd almost let herself think -

Well, what had she expected? Him to beg her to stay when she showed up whining that she couldn't take it any more? She hadn't expected that for a second.

(So why did she suddenly want him to tell her not to go?)

She sucked in a breath. "I mean it," she said softly. "Thank you." She gazed up at him; because she was grateful. More grateful, for last night, than she could express. More grateful than Blair Waldorf ever liked feeling.

He managed a nod. He could tell her he was sorry, and it wouldn't mean anything. She was better than this, he knew, and she deserved to be happy. To get away from the past. He'd realised that six years ago. He'd just let himself forget.

She gave him one final look, and then she was gone. He breathed out, slowly. It didn't make the pain in his chest go away.


	18. Chapter 18

_'You're not going anywhere without me_

_And you shake and you bleed and I feel the same way.'_

* * *

Carter lay, contented, on his back. The morning wind roared outside, but he was more occupied with the fact that Tish was sprawled on his bare chest. She'd arrived from England the night before, unannounced and without Max, and Carter had been more than happy to catch her as she wrapped those long legs around him and head straight to his bedroom. She told him she'd got bored of exam term at Cambridge. "I needed some retail therapy, darling."

She sat up languidly now, running her hands through her hair.

"Well," Carter stretched. "That's one way to work out those kinks from flying."

Tish pulled a face at him. "Don't joke. Maxxie needed the jet for some business in Hong Kong, so I had to fly commercially. And the awful air hostess laughed when I asked her where first class was, because I was _in _it." She gave a little shudder. "You know you have to share a toilet with the other first class passengers? It's horrific. And they don't take requests for dinner."

"Imagine," Carter drawled fondly.

She climbed off the bed, shaking auburn hair over pale shoulders as she stalked to the mirror.

"Where are you going?" he enquired. He'd been looking forward to spending the morning in bed with her.

"I have plans," she informed him, reaching idly for her dress. "With your sister."

Carter's scowl was instant. Blair hadn't spoken to him since she'd moved into the Columbia dorms. He still couldn't believe she was slumming it in _dorms. _He'd have told her as much, were she not still ignoring him.

"Apparently Dan's finished that article," Tish carried on. "Blair's set up lunch for us." Carter managed not to grit his teeth at the mention of Humphrey. Humphrey, lunch and that goddamn article. Tish spared him a glance as she stepped into her clothes. "Don't tell me you're arguing again?" she sighed. She zipped the dress up. "Is it the drug problem?"

Carter's eyes narrowed. "What drug problem?"

"It's all right," Tish assured him airily. "Blair told me all about it when I called her. The occasional pill is all right, darling, but if you're worrying your sister maybe you should cut back a bit?"

Carter stared, disbelieving. "She told you I had a _drug problem?"_

"Don't worry," Tish promised, "I convinced her not to stage an intervention. Like I said, you just need to cut back a bit." She smiled and slipped her feet into heels. "I'm sure I can think of better things for you to do now that I'm here." She placed a kiss on his lips and swept out of the room, leaving him to glower in outrage. _Drug problem?_

* * *

It was a lazy afternoon, the weather so miserable outside that any sensible person in Manhattan was tucked up at home. Up until a few minutes ago, Nate had not been one of them.

"Ok." He set down his glass of water, hair damp with sweat from his run. He faced his best friend. He didn't care about the wind outside - running had helped clear his head. "It's time."

Chuck arched an eyebrow. "Time for what, exactly?" He was perfectly put together in contrast to the blond, not a hint of sweat under his immaculate suit and a sheaf of papers in his hand. He had a meeting with Bart later - a meeting that he was already dreading. Evelyn was, at least, supposed to be in Italy for the weekend, so the Bass penthouse was relatively safe. Chuck didn't even want to look at his mother at the moment.

Nate dropped onto the opposite sofa. His face was serious. Serena had left for late lunch with Lily, which left the apartment empty except for the two of them. "Time to fix this. Serena's moping, we haven't seen Blair in days - this needs to stop."

Chuck forced himself not to stiffen at the sound of Blair's name. He shook his head instead. "Archibald-"

"I get it," Nate cut him off firmly. "I mean, Blair was away without any of us for six years. She can take care of herself. And maybe she needs time alone. But come on, she's sharing with _Penelope." _Even he knew what an awful living situation that was. "She's my friend too," he insisted. "You're telling me you don't want to get her back? This is Blair."

Chuck exhaled. "Blair," he pointed out drily. "Who would kill anyone who tried to interfere in her life."

Nate ignored him. "When has that ever stopped you? Besides," he pointed out, "She does more interferring than any of us."

Chuck had to admit that was true. Blair had always stuck to the policy that there were no boundaries when it came to her and saving Serena or straightening out Nate or keeping Chuck in line. She claimed it wasn't interferring - it was doing what was necessary. A policy Chuck also adhered to.

But it was Bass interference that had got Blair in this situation in the first place. Blair was freaking out and she needed to prove a point - a point, Chuck knew, that only she could prove. "She wants to remember who she is," Chuck said at last. His tone was brusque. "That's not something any of us can do for her."

Nate gave him a blank look. "But she's Blair." Remember who she was? She was the bossy, scheming brunette that had terrified and perplexed and amused him for as long as he could remember - how had that changed?

"Yeah." Chuck's voice was rigid because Nate was right. She was Blair. He didn't understand how she could think she'd changed either. A Blair Waldorf who hadn't lived on the Upper East Side for six years, who devoted her life to studying and chose to live in dorms was still Blair Waldorf. A Blair Waldorf who went completely off the rails was still Blair Waldorf. She could pretend all she liked, act as differently as she liked - it was still an act. However much she tried, Blair Waldorf could never be anything other than she was.

Blair Waldorf could never change - not really - any more than Chuck Bass could. He would never be anything other than _he _was.

And maybe that was the problem.

* * *

Carter was long past the age of needing someone to keep an eye on him - and God help the person who tried - but Lily still insisted on lunch at least twice a month, just to catch up. As if she didn't see him at events half the time anyway. He hadn't been looking forward to this particular lunch because Blair and Serena were supposed to be there. But when he arrived at his former guardian's penthouse, hair swept from the wind, it was to be told that Blair had been and gone. Serena informed him, disgruntled, that she'd left with Tish for more shopping. (She'd _better _not have invited fucking Humphrey along). Carter had no idea why the blonde was complaining - at least Blair was _talking_ to Serena. And yes. Carter was utterly unrepentant for what he'd done. He did not crawl to his sister with apologies, especially not when she was giving him the silent treatment.

"Carter." Lily smiled as she gestured for him to take his seat at the table. She didn't comment on how late he was. Carter dropped into a chair and reached instantly for his wine glass - but he was stopped by Lily's raised eyebrow. "We need to have a word," she said delicately. Her hand covered his for a moment. "Do I need to be worried?"

Carter arched a brow back. "I'm sorry?"

The woman cleared her throat. "Blair and I had a chat. I know you like to...cut loose, occassionally-"

And then realisation sunk in. "I don't have a drug problem," he snarled before she could go on. He couldn't _believe _his sister.

Serena snorted from the other side of the table and Lily surveyed him for a moment. "You're sure about that?" Carter just glared. "All right," Lily smiled again. "Just checking. You know you don't need to hide anything from me, Carter. I'm always here." Carter rolled his eyes and reached for the wine again. Lily moved it out of his grasp. "Why don't you try some orange juice?" She gave his hand another little pat and then rose, taking the wine with her.

Carter glowered at her retreating figure. Serena was still smirking. "So funny," Carter sniped at her. He took a mouthful of orange juice and pulled a face of disgust.

"Drink up," Serena answered sweetly. "Addicts need their vitamin C."

Carter's lip curled. "You're lucky she's not telling Lily you're an alcoholic."

And just like that, Serena's expression turned cold. "You're the one who took it too far. I_ told_ you ambushing her was too much."

"Please," Carter scoffed. "You were in complete agreement until Blair found out. And," he added nastily, "You were the one who called me in the first place."

"Because I was worried," Serena replied, hot.

"And I wasn't?" Something dangerous flashed on Carter's usually bored face for a moment. His eyes were hard.

Serena just sighed and shook her head. "Well, it was a mistake."

"You think?" Carter's tone was acidic, and Serena gave him a narrow look.

"I'm losing her," she said at last. Her shoulders slumped. "Or...maybe I've already lost her. Maybe I've been losing her ever since we got back to Manhattan."

That made him roll his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Serena paused a moment and then shook her head again. "I don't know," she murmured. Maybe she'd started losing Blair the day she'd gone to boarding school. "But only seeing her in the holidays for six years-"

"Oh no." Carter had already cut her off. "No, no. You're not blaming this on me too." His eyes narrowed at her. "Lily agreed that boarding school was the best thing for her. So did that shrink. She's been back in Manhattan for months now - if you two have fallen out, then you have no one to blame but yourselves."

Serena sent him a frown. "Wow, thanks."

Carter just shrugged. "I won't be held responsible for your catfights. Or for my sister being a bitch," he clarified. "Or your general sloppiness driving her crazy."

Was that it, Serena wondered? Did they really drive each other crazy? "Of course not, Carter," she sighed as she got to her feet. She flipped him a glance over her shoulder. "Good luck with your habit." She was gone.

Carter scowled.

* * *

"I'm...sorry."

And she actually was. Toby was a great guy. He was good-looking, intelligent, charming and funny. And on top of it all - genuinely sweet. But Blair Waldorf wasn't. She wasn't sweet. She wasn't nice or gentle or patient. She could act it, but only for so long. Only in the occassional burst.

Telling him the truth now was probably the most selfless thing she'd done in a long time. In fact, she decided, it probably exceeded her quota for the year. She liked Toby. She wanted to want Toby. But that wasn't the same as wanting him. Whoever Blair Waldorf was or had been - she wasn't a girl that clung to a guy simply because he was nice to her. And what she'd just told him was true, because the last thing she wanted at the moment was a relationship. Not that she really had any kind of relationship now anyway, other than school and fashion and social networking. She wasn't speaking to her brother, her friendship with Serena was hanging by a thread, and Chuck -

"So am I." Toby smiled a little. "Although I hope we can still be friends?"

Blair managed a smile back over her coffee. "I'd like that." Toby brushed her hand, briefly, over the table. His fingers were warm, but they weren't -

"I'm meant to be seeing Tish for dinner tonight, but she cancelled." He glanced at her. "I'm guessing it has something to do with your brother."

Blair rolled her eyes in response. "I wouldn't know," she said archly. "Whatever Carter does is none of my business."

Toby grinned. "Tish mentioned he seemed a little down."

"I'm sure she's putting a stop to that as we speak."

They both pulled a face at the visual. "Well, speaking as an older cousin..." Toby shrugged. "I'm sure he just wants to know you're ok." Tish had complained to him via phone that the two of them not speaking made her life unecessarily complicated.

"Hmm." Blair's smirk was grim - she wasn't so sure about that. If Lily had already spoken to him, then she was pretty confident her wellbeing would be the last thing on her brother's mind. She just wished she could have seen his face. "Well," she paused. "Since Carter derailed your plans for the evening...how would you like to come to a Columbia alumni event tonight?" Provided she kept him well away from Penelope, perhaps she could introduce him to a nice Columbia girl. She hadn't really been looking forward to the event herself. Especially since both Nate and Serena were garuanteed to be there.

(And what exactly was wrong with her, some deep buried instinct wondered, that made the presence of two of her best friends a bad thing? It was an instinct that she forced away.)

"I'd love to."

"Great." Blair stood, reaching for her coat. "I'll meet you at eight?"

Toby stood to help her into the garment. "See you then."

She was so busy mentally considering the perfect girl for him - there had to be some potential from Hamilton House, surely? - as she left the cafe, that it took her a moment to notice Damien. When she did the smile slipped straight off her face. God, what was he doing here?

"Blair." Unlike Toby, he definitely did not have a great smile. "What are you doing here? Did I just see you on a date with...Toby Lloyd Davis?" The name was a sneer on his mouth. "I mean, I would've rescued you, but-"

Blair gave him a cool look. "Did you want something, Damien?" Her tone was bored.

Something flickered on his face, but he kept his voice smooth. "I was actually going to ask if you were going to the Columbia thing tonight."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "As far as I'm aware, all freshmans are invited. But I'm pretty sure it's just for Columbia students. It being a Columbia event."

Damien's answer was a smirk. "I'm going with a friend. I'm her plus one. I wasn't going to bother, but since she begged..." Some desperate freshman with a bad coke habit.

"A plus one. Lucky you." Blair was beyond sick of Damien, and she had an outfit for tonight to select. Plus the wind outside was doing nothing for her hair. Where the hell was James with the car?

"Well, I hope I'll see you there."

There was an edge to Damien's voice that irritated her even more. She finally turned on him, lips tight. "All right. I pretended to go along with your little charade the last two times you 'bumped' into me, but enough is enough. Maybe you've decided I'll make a good client now that we're out of school - but I wasn't interested in your little pills then, Damien, and I'm not now. Go bother someone else."

His expression had turned ugly. How did she know about the drugs? Had Chuck fucking Bass told her? "Right," he leered. "Because Blair Waldorf never likes to party. Until, you know, you came here and started hanging out with your old _friend_. Because then you'll do anything, won't you?"

Blair's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'm sorry?" It was like ice.

"You start sleeping with him and suddenly you think you're better than me," Damien snorted. "It's pathetic. You think he even thought about you once while you were away at school? I know we read enough about him. You think he was waiting for you while you refused to let any guy even get past first base? While you were _saving _yourself for him? You know only reason he started sleeping with you once you got back was for his mother."

Her mouth was now pinched in fury. Slowly, she cocked her head. "Damien. You're a sleazy drug-dealer with greasy hair and daddy issues. I think it's safe to say I was always better than you." She looked him over. "The only thing that's changed since school is now, I don't have to see you in class every day. So do me a favour and run along. Oh." She paused. "And if I hear you mention any of Chuck's family again...maybe I'll pay a visit to yours. You can say hi to your father from me."

The thinly veiled threat made his face puce. Particularly as it echoed Chuck's. "You're going to be sorry, Blair."

"Not as sorry as if I have to spend another second talking to you." She was already turning away. James had brought the car around, at last - she climbed in without a single glance back.

Damien's hands had balled into fists as he watched the car drive off. The wind roared around him as he finally snapped. Oh, she was going to be sorry all right. He'd had _enough._

* * *

Chuck came to a stop when the elevator doors of his parents' apartment slid open. He could hear her. For whatever reason, Evelyn wasn't in Rome. He could hear her mocking tones - which could only mean Bart was also home.

Slowly, he crossed the hall and stood before the living room.

His father was seated on the sofa - stiff and upright, face impassive and file in hand - while Evelyn prowled the room. She was langurous as she tossed back a glass of Bart's favourite scotch, letting the tumbler fall to the floor.

"Oh, look." Her dark eyes slanted on her son in the doorway. "Here he is. My precious boy. Come to disappoint me as much as his father, I assume? You know," her laugh was mirthless as she turned back to Bart, "I should congratulate you on a job well done, Bartholomew. You've managed to raise a son almost as unloveable as you are. Except he couldn't even get Blair to start with. At least you got further than that with me, didn't you?"

Bart ignored her.

"I thought you were going to Italy." Chuck spoke coldly. He couldn't stand it. Always, there was the nausea and seething dislike - but now a hatred of a different kind consumed him. Something that boiled too dangerously close to the surface, just watching the curve of her mouth, just hearing that drawl -

Evelyn didn't even look at him. "Although he's sadly lacking in your powers of observation, otherwise he would have noticed the weather outside." Those dark eyes finally flickered to Chuck as Bart didn't even flinch. "Sadly I won't be flying anywhere this weekend, sweetheart. I'm sure your father's devastated that the pilot he hired is too much of a coward to brave a bit of wind. It would have made his day, I'm sure - an airplane crash would get me nicely out of the way, not to mention the insurance he'd get from the Bass jet." She allowed some more of Bart's scotch to trickle out of the bottle, staining the thousand dollar Persian rug on the floor. Her face was a mask of boredom - a mask that Chuck himself had perfected, learned directly from her. "I suppose I'll have to make do with another stockbroker tonight. It's a shame - I was so looking forward to Gianlucca-"

"That's enough," he suddenly snapped.

Evelyn arched one very slow brow. Even Bart spared him the briefest of glances. "What's this?" Evelyn murmured. "Is your son actually trying to defend you, Bartholomew? I'd be careful," her eyes flickered to Chuck, "Your poor father might feel like he owes you something."

Chuck just gave her an icy look. "Don't you have a desperate stockbroker to find?"

Evelyn's eyes darkened. "You've decided to be on his side now, Charles?" It was mocking. "I hope you're not expecting love or any sort of gratitude for this. If you're lucky, your father might manage a nod. Just don't come crying to me," she laughed, "When you're left alone and penniless without so much as a thank you. Maybe if you'd landed the Waldorf girl..."

The warning was clear, but Chuck was past that. "If you go after Blair again," he said, soft, "You're going to regret it."

"Well." Evelyn's mouth curled. "That's family loyalty for you." She looked at her son for a moment, and then shook her head. "I promise you, Charles. You're the only one who's going to regret this." She stalked out.

* * *

Blair smoothed the diamond necklace over her collarbone, lipstick a deep red to match the full colour of her dress. It had been so long since she'd run an outfit by her mother for approval - and still she found herself wondering, as always, if any of this would ever have been enough for Eleanor. Would she have told her the red washed her out? That the top part of the dress did nothing for her chest? The doubts came in Eleanor's voice, like they always did, though Blair wasn't sure if they were really her mother's or her own any more. (Would Eleanor even have cared? Had she ever, or was it just her own perception warping all the memories?)

It didn't matter either way. Eleanor wasn't here to give her opinion any more. And, Blair decided, _she _liked the red. She and Serena had picked the dress out together that summer. And Serena had been the one to find the perfect shoes to go with the outfit...shortly before Chuck had whisked Blair into one of the dressing rooms to relieve her shopping stress. She'd been very firm that he didn't crease the dress at all - it was perfectly smooth over her hips and stomach, now, as her fingers traced the zip and she remembered his hand following the same path. She forced the memory away.

And then she was wondering how things were going at Bass Industries, how Bart was treating him, if Evelyn -

_The only reason he started sleeping with you once you got back was for his mother._

Well, he wasn't sleeping with her now. She was aware of the influence Evelyn held over her son's life - she'd grown up with it, after all - and she knew all too well that the woman had the ability to make his life a living hell. Well, more of a living hell than she did already. She'd guessed that whatever blackmail Evelyn used had something to do with Bart. The one thing guaranteed to have any hold over Chuck, for all his apparent indifference to the man.

But Damien was a moron, because Blair had had just as much motivation for dating Chuck too. She knew Evelyn was after Waldorf Designs, and if she let the woman think she was getting closer to her goal, then she was far less likely to take drastic measures. Blair could play along, but there was no way in hell she was letting Evelyn Bass anywhere near her mother's company.

Except that hadn't been why she'd started any of what she'd started with Chuck. And she hadn't been _saving _herself for him at all - she hadn't had sex before because she hadn't wanted to. Because it was better to leave boys wanting more. Because she was in control as long as they were unsatisfied and she was better than them. And then she'd lost that control, completely, with Chuck.

Or had she just stopped caring about the control? Had she ever been in control, really? While she was running and studying and weighing herself and social climbing and covering up nightmares - anything other than being alone or _lonely _or those terrors in the night - had that been control? Had she _ever _been in control?

The most in control she'd felt had been finally coming home. The beginning of the summer, when Serena and Nate and Carter had all known exactly who she was, and Chuck had looked at her with pure lust and admiration. Before the past had caught up with her and sent it all crashing down.

_You think he ever thought about you once while you were away at school?_

But that was what made her feel sick. He'd never shown that first summer. An indifferent Chuck wouldn't have bothered to skip the country just to avoid her. He _had _thought about her. He'd thought about her, before then, enough to tell Carter he was worried. Chuck Bass worrying about her, pitying her -

She shook her head in frustration and ran her hands over her hair. She wasn't going back there again. Not the humiliation of worrying what Chuck thought of her. But that didn't stop her from worrying about _him_, from her stomach clenching at the thought of Evelyn and the havoc she wouldn't hesitate to wreak. It didn't stop her from missing him. From missing his smirk or the feel of his lips on hers, his touch, the heat of his chest, the gleam in his eye.

She missed Chuck and she missed Serena, and Nate - and even her feckless brother. She missed all of them. She missed them even more as the door opened and Penelope strutted in.

The girl's gaze flickered immediately over her outfit, eyes narrowed, eager. "I love your dress."

Blair's smile back was frosty. Penelope seemed to be falling over herself to get into her good graces - but Blair didn't forget. Still. Minions, she needed. "Why aren't you ready yet?"

Penelope dropped down onto her bed with a scowl. "Well, I had the most perfect Valentino on hold...but when I went to pick it up today, I found out _Serena _ordered the exact same one in blue." She had most definitely switched alleigences - serving Blair, she'd decided, would be so much more advantageous than following Serena ever had been. And now that Serena and Blair weren't speaking, she was more than happy to push on the divide to become Blair's new bff.

Blair didn't like the way Penelope said Serena's name. She paused just long enough to look at the other girl. "Then I'd suggest finding something else. I think you know any dress will look better on Serena than it ever would on you."

Penelope's face fell into an instant sulk.

Blair spared her a cool smile before picking up her clutch and sweeping out of the room.

* * *

Bart and Chuck had both been focused, for the past hour, on the numbers in front of them and not on the silence Evelyn had left. Work was infinitely preferable to the thought of his mother, anyway. Although the more he concentrated on paperwork, the more those thoughts taunted him. _You're the only one who's going to regret this. _He'd pushed her too far. He'd pushed her too far, he knew, and now she'd go after Bart. His fault.

His father finally put the last sheaf of paper down as the last rays of sun sunk in the sky. "So I'll see you tomorrow morning, nine o'clock sharp."

Chuck gave a curt nod and got to his feet. His stomach was knotting in dread now. How long would it take for Evelyn to start plotting her revenge? He'd seen the glint in her eye. If she went down, then she was dragging Bart down with her. Chuck picked up the dossier and moved towards the door. And he hesitated.

What was he meant to do? Warn his father he may have just set his mother on him? No. He would have to stop Evelyn himself. He'd have to -

"Chuck." Bart cleared his throat. The boy paused in the doorway and Bart glanced at him. "I hope Blair's all right after the incident the other week?" He sounded stiff as ever. _If __you're lucky, your father might manage a nod._

"She's fine," Chuck muttered. It would take a hell of a lot more than a false bulimia accusation for her to be otherwise. Which he was sure his mother would take every measure to discover.

"Good." Bart paused a moment, Chuck still halfway out the door. "I'm sorry," he sighed, and he sounded suddenly very weary.

Chuck stopped. Bart Bass was _apologising? _Bart Bass was apologising to _him_? He had never known his father to express regret or even second thoughts for a single action. Least of all to his son. And what exactly, Chuck wondered, was he sorry for?

"For what?" his voice was very low. Bart regarded him. His blue eyes were as cold and unreadable as ever. "You're not sorry." Chuck's lip curled. "If you were sorry, you'd actually do something." He couldn't stop the sudden sneer, the bitter anger. If his father was as exhausted of Evelyn as Chuck was, then why the hell hadn't he left her years ago and put an end to all this? If Bart had bothered to express any kind of emotion, at any point, rather than coldly ignoring his wife, then he'd have been free a long time ago. Then there wouldn't be the tension, the seething dislike in their penthouse every single day. Bart was as much to blame as Evelyn for all of this. They all were. They sniped, they were cruel and mocking and spiteful and they did nothing. Bart, who was supposed to be a man of action. He was ruthless enough in the boardroom. So why did he do _nothing _at home?

Bart's brow had darkened. His eyes, though, remained cool. "What?"

"You're the one who stayed married to her for twenty years," Chuck answered mercilessly. "If you're that _sorry, _you'd have divorced her and put us all out of our misery." His expression was icy with contempt, fury. "But you never will, will you?"

Bart looked at his son, flat. "And what exactly would a divorce have achieved?" he asked at last. "You'd have nothing, Charles. Your mother would get full custody and cut you off completely. Is that what you'd have wanted?"

Chuck stared at him. "That wouldn't have-"

"Of course it would," Bart snapped.

Chuck pressed his lips together. "Well, I'm eighteen now. Custody isn't an issue any more." Was that why his father hated him so much, he wondered? Had he really been the reason, the whole time, that he'd had to stay married to Evelyn? (And why did his father even care?)

Bart let out a humourless laugh in response. "And how do you think that divorce settlement would work out? You're not going to inherit Bass Industries if your mother owns half the company."

Chuck watched his father in silence. "You can't seriously tell me you're stuck with her because of _me_," he said at last, rigidly. No wonder Bart couldn't stand him.

His brow was just as heavy. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, Chuck."

Chuck clenched his jaw at his father's patronizing tone, mouth twisting. "No, I understand now. You must regret the day I was ever born." If they'd never had children, Bart and Evelyn might have been over a long time ago. Well, Chuck thought savagely, maybe they should've been a bit more careful with birth control.

Bart gave him a brusque look. "Don't be ridiculous. You're the best thing that came out of any of this." His tone was so crisp that it took Chuck a moment to realise what he'd said; he blinked.

The best thing?

Bart couldn't possibly mean that. "Please. If it weren't for me-"

"Then I would have nothing to remind me of your mother, and no one to inherit my company."

Chuck narrowed his eyes, because his throat wasn't entirely working properly. "Why would you want someone to _remind _you of her?" he managed at last. Why would Bart _want_ the same sneer, the same mocking dark eyes and all of Evelyn's cruelty thrown back in his face every day?

His father released a short sigh. "However hard you may find it to believe...I was in love with your mother once." His face was closed and devoid of emotion, but something in his voice made Chuck pause.

(Did he still love her, he wondered? Was it even possible?)

There was a silence. And then Chuck forced his voice to work and finally spoke. "She's going to go after you. If she can't get Waldorf Designs, then she's going after Bass Industries."

Bart's gaze was even, unaffected. "She's been threatening that for years," he replied drily.

Chuck shook his head. "No. She knows things." He looked at his father - because he wasn't even supposed to know this. They didn't speak about it. "She knows about that building. About the fire. She's going to tell the board."

Bart was quiet for a moment. As expected, the mention of the fire had tightened his face. Chuck knew about the insurance scam, and he knew about the death of the security guard that Bart had taken such lengths to cover up. "She told you this?" he asked eventually.

Chuck just nodded.

His father's lips thinned. "Well," he murmured at last. "I suppose I'd better start damage control." His shoulders were heavy as he rose to his feet, reaching for his cell phone. He glanced at Chuck one last time. "Thank you." He cleared his throat. "For telling me. I appreciate it."

Chuck regarded his father back. "Can I do anything to help?" he asked thickly.

"No."

It was brusque. Chuck mentally kicked himself for being so stupid, hating that he'd let that single word affect him. No. Of course he couldn't. Why would his father want his help anyway?

And then, as Bart was nearing the door, the man paused just for a moment. His hand rested on Chuck's shoulder. Heavy and unfamiliar - the most physical contact they'd had in a long time. Chuck had gone still. "This is my mess," his father sighed. "I'll keep her away from the company. You...keep her away from Blair." They exchanged a look. And with that, he was gone.

* * *

"Um, who's your friend, Blair?" Jessica was all smiles as she noticed Toby, hands fluttering to her blonde hair and pearl necklace. "Hi!"

Blair repressed an eyeroll. At least Jessica was a step up from Penelope - more loyal, for one thing. She giggled as she offered to get him a drink, elbowing past the other Hamilton House members. Toby actually seemed quite content to be fussed over by the pretty girls. He flashed Blair a grin.

Blair swallowed a mouthful of champagne and shook her head.

"Blair."

Oh, great.

Damien stood behind her, date hanging off his arm. Blair only needed to glance at her to know exactly what she was getting from their partnership. "Damien."

"Having fun?"

Her smile back was acidic. "I was."

Toby had glanced over, Jessica still hovering close. "All right, Dalgaard?"

Damien's lip curled unpleasantly. "Fine." He moved off with his client, and Blair rolled her eyes in relief. She didn't notice him still watching her as he and the girl disappeared to the bar and she turned back to her drink. She didn't notice because she'd just spotted Nate and Serena on the other side of the room. Her stomach clenched, almost a pang. Serena was laughing at something Nate had said, Nate's blue eyes creased and Serena's grin wide. It faltered as her gaze fell on Blair. She bit her lip. Nate smiled over at her.

Blair forced a smile back, but it felt frozen on her face.

She wanted to go over to them, wanted to join in their joke and laugh too like she belonged with them. The coldness between her and Serena, the forced smiles and the forced lightness - it was exhausting. Was she even mad at her, still? She knew the blonde had done what she thought was best, knew that if their positions were reversed then she'd do exactly the same. But every time she tried to talk to Serena, to let it go, the hot shame bubbled up; the fear, bitter, that she'd see pity in that blue gaze. And what if Serena was having more fun without her anyway?

But it was wrong. Being on the other side of the room from Serena and Nate was _wrong_, and it was an instinct that refused to disappear.

* * *

"Why don't we just go and talk to her?" Nate was muttering to Serena, hopeful. "Just go over, and-"

"She's ignoring me," Serena insisted. "She doesn't want to talk to me. And you know, there's only so many times I can apologise." She folded her arms.

"Come on," Nate tried. "This is Blair." (He was losing count of how many times he'd said that. But shouldn't it have been enough?)

Serena remained stubborn. "She's the one who moved out. She's the one who's been acting like she doesn't even want to be friends any more."

"She was feeling lost," the other blond attempted to remember what Chuck had told him. "You know, maybe she just needed some time to...figure things out."

"Figure what out?" Serena demanded. "Whether or not she wants me to be her best friend? Whether or not I'm good enough for her?"

Nate paused as his girlfriend took a deep sip of champagne, now pointedly ignoring the brunette on the other side of the room. He looked over at her. He'd caught her, staring back over at them. "Serena," he attempted finally. "It's not just you. I mean, she's cutting me out too - and Chuck, and Carter. Maybe it's not..." he shrugged. "Maybe we're not the problem."

He saw Serena hesitate. Saw her eyes slide to Blair, and held his breath -

"Then, she needs to talk to me." Serena took another determined gulp of champagne and turned away, though her voice didn't sound half as convinced. And when she thought Nate wasn't looking, her gaze flickered, once more, to Blair. And both she and Blair looked away at the same time.

* * *

_Spotted: B, vibrant in Versace and ignoring her supposed best friend...still. Looks like this Cold War isn't ending any time soon. At least S still has N - who does B have, exactly?_

Chuck rolled his eyes at the blast - though he did note, painfully, that she did indeed look vibrant in Versace. Her red dress was gorgeous, and her full red lips made him ache to kiss that lipstick off. Was this what he was reduced to, he wondered? Gazing at Gossip Girl blasts of her like some kind of pathetic stalker?

He was Chuck Bass, for fuck's sake.

He was Chuck Bass and he missed her. He wanted her. He loved her. He couldn't imagine a day when he wouldn't be in love with her. (Was that it, he wondered? Was that how Bart felt about Evelyn? Even at her cruellest and most manipulative?) He remembered her thanking him, remembered the way those dark eyes had held his, just for a moment, as she'd told him she was moving out...and not having her in the penthouse had been unbearable. Not having Serena and Blair or Nate and Blair - it had been that way for the past six years, and it wasn't till she'd come back that he realised just how wrong it had been. Or maybe he'd always known. Her not being there was _wrong. _Not having Blair to boss them around, to snipe at Serena or snap at Nate, not having Blair to spar and scheme with, to mock, to play Hepburn movies over and over, to organise and order and take down enemies with - they'd all known it.

They'd all told themselves it was what was best for her, and Chuck had forced back the selfish knowledge that it didn't feel like what was best at all. The knowledge that he just wanted her _there._

And that was still all he wanted. He wasn't a saint or a white knight - and he wasn't selfless. He was his father's son, and he didn't know how to be selfless.

_This is my mess._

And maybe it was, he realised - maybe Evelyn _was_ Bart's mess.

But Blair was his.

* * *

"Ok, man, this should do the job-"

Nate heard the voices stop as soon as he entered the bathroom. He paused, frowning. There were two guys in one of the cubicles. He hastily decided that it would be best to get his business done and get the hell out. Awkward. He was just zipping up when he realised he'd recognised one of them - a guy he'd met in the Hamptons. Blair's friend from boarding school. (What was his name again?)

He couldn't help a faint bemused grin as he left. Maybe he should have known from the guy's hair...and he _was _European. still, Serena had been convinced he had a thing for Blair. She'd never believe Nate when he told her. With any luck, it would distract her from pretending to ignore Blair. For all of five seconds.

* * *

Penelope was sulking. Blair had been ignoring her all night - she kept looking over at Serena, like it wasn't obvious - and Jessica had called first dibs on the undeniably hot Toby. Not that Penelope cared. The truth was, Nate had always been the guy she'd really wanted. Personally, she didn't think Serena deserved him. Something she would never have dared voice until she'd met Blair and realised that Serena just wasn't a satisfying queen to follow.

In fact, she decided, she no longer liked Serena at all. The blonde got _everything, _and it just wasn't fair. (And Penelope had really wanted to wear that dress. She had the perfect figure for it).

She was sitting sullen-faced at the bar now, alternately pouting and glowering over her champagne at anyone who got in her way. She arched an eyebrow at the guy that had just been checking her out - because he'd just decided to sit next to her.

"Can I help you?" she asked snidely. She'd seen him earlier, actually, talking to Blair.

"I thought you could use some company," the guy replied with a smile. She took a moment to assess him. He wasn't bad looking, she supposed - dirty blond hair and a tux, though he was unfortunately shorter than her.

"Well I'm not interested in yours."

The guy just smirked again and followed her gaze to Blair. "You know, that blonde girl really seems to be ruining her night."

"Obviously." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, she's been ignoring her for weeks. Whatever she did," she added with some relish, "It must have been pretty serious."

The guy regarded her for a moment. "I heard," he said at last, offhand, "That she slept with Chuck."

And at that, Penelope's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "What? Serena and Chuck had _sex_? When? And why doesn't Gossip Girl know about this?" She was was already, eagerly, pulling out her cell.

Damien raised a hand to stop her. "Because Blair probably doesn't want her to know. I doubt she'd be very happy with the person who leaked it."

Please, Penelope thought with some scorn, as if she'd ever find out. God, this was the scoop of the year! She couldn't _wait._

"On the other hand," Damien put in, "If a person were to help her take down Serena...I'm sure she'd be eternally grateful. Not to mention that it would put her on top. Where she belongs."

Penelope's gaze gleamed. "Well, if someone were to tell Nate-"

"Then Nate probably wouldn't believe them. Don't you think public humiliation would work so much better?"

Penelope glanced over to where the two blondes stood. Perfect Serena and her perfect golden hair...well, she clearly wasn't all that perfect. Public humiliation was _exactly _what she deserved. Her eyes skimmed back to Damien. "Do you have a plan?"

Damien simply smiled, cold.

* * *

Carter and Tish were playing their own version of strip poker with some Dom '95. Tish was currently down to the tight slip she'd bought just that day, while Carter was just in his boxers and a sock.

"I think you learned this game too well," he murmured as he lost the sock.

"Well," Tish answered brightly, eyeing his almost naked form, "I learned from the best." Her smile stretched as the next song came onto Carter's i-pod - "Oh, let's dance. I _love _this song." She folded herself onto his lap, cards forgotten, and dragged him to his feet.

He caught her, fingers tangling in her hair as he kissed her. She pressed her body into his, tilting her head back.

"Mmm, do you remember this song playing the first time we slept together?"

Carter raised an eyebrow at her, hands sliding round her waist. "I'm amazed you remember."

She laughed lazily. "I may not have been very sober at the time...but I do remember." She kissed his bare chest. "That...and certain other things."

He grabbed her, kissing her full on the mouth again. "I missed you, Tish."

"I missed you too," she sighed. "You know, no one in England even compares to you." She paused a moment. "Oh, except Maxxie. Obviously."

Carter rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

Tish grinned as she gazed up at him, fingers twining round his neck. "Oh, Carter...you're not jealous, are you? You know that's not how this works."

In answer, he tossed her down onto the sofa, all legs, and fell on top of her, making her shriek with delight as their lips met each other's. He kissed her till he forgot that he was _raging _with jealousy, because he knew damn well that that wasn't how it worked at all.

* * *

Blair could see that Penelope was up to something. Something that involved Serena. The girl had no subtlety at all, she thought in annoyance. Right now she was advancing on the blonde with two glasses of champagne, one of which clearly had something awful in. Blair would put her money on a laxative, or something equally unimaginative. She marched up to the girls before Penelope could get any further.

"Are you a bartender now, P?" she enquired.

She saw Serena turn confused eyes on her, while Penelope froze a little. "Uh, no - I just wanted to toast Serena on her success in Hamilton house-"

"How kind," Blair intercut crisply. "So where's my toast?"

Penelope floundered for a moment. "I-"

Blair plucked one of the glasses from her. The one that she hadn't been offering Serena. "Come on, then. Drink up."

Penelope's eyes were wide as she stared at the glass she'd intended for the blonde. No way was she drinking from that. "Well-"

Blair riased her glass expectantly. "Well?"

"I'm not that thirsty."

"I'm sure," Blair simpered. Her gaze turned steely. "Drink."

She lifted her own glass to her lips and took a long, slow sip as she regarded Penelope. "Mm. Delicious. Come on, P, try some." She drank some more.

The other girl blinked, trapped. Damien hadn't said_ this_ would happen. She shifted from side to side. And then, finally, in one desperate movement, she threw the glass from her hand. "Oops!"

Blair hissed in fury as the champagne hit her dress, soaking it, and the glass smashed at her feet. "You classless imbecile!"

Penelope flinched a little, but she was honestly just relieved that she'd got rid of it. Damien had said the substance would leave a girl on the toilet for hours. And that it worked almost immediately. "I'll just, uh...get someone to clean that up." She made a swift departure, leaving Blair to glare.

Serena, meanwhile, was still frowning at her. "What was...all that about?"

Blair opened her mouth to tell her what Penelope had obviously been planning - and then found that she couldn't. Because just for the briefest moment, a look had crossed Serena's face. A look that it took Blair a moment to figure out.

"Blair...I'm sure Penelope would have toasted you too. You're a member of Hamilton House."

Blair stared at her in disbelief. "That wasn't..." Her voice got stuck in her throat. Bitter. "Never mind." So Serena still thought she was jealous and pathetic? She shook her head.

"B," Serena attempted.

But Blair had pushed past her. "I need to go fix my dress."

Actually, what she needed to do was get out. Her dress was reeking of aclohol and beyond fixing. She left the blonde gaping after her and headed for the exit, reaching for her phone and trying to force back the ridiculous lump in her throat. She suddenly felt very tired all over again, and a pounding had statred in her head.

"Where did Blair go?" Nate asked, at a loss. It looked like the situation had managed to get even worse, and he wasn't sure how. But Serena did not look happy.

She answered by flagging down another drink. "I have no idea." She lifted her chin, defiant, though her eyes were glossy with hurt. "And I don't care."

* * *

The air was freezing outside as Blair waited, and the wind cut straight through her - but she welcomed it. That stifled feeling had come back, the sickly sweet champagne making her feel nauseous. She grew more dizzy and exhausted the longer she waited. Where the hell was James? His service had been so crappy of late.

And it _hurt_, still, that Serena thought she was that pathetic and desperate. Was she? No. She wasn't. She'd made her own path in Hamilton House. She was succeeding where Serena wasn't - she was doing better in school, in her internship...and why was she turning it all into a stupid competition again? Her head really hurt. And she missed Chuck. She didn't know why it was hitting her now all of a sudden, all over again - she'd spent so long pushing it back - but it was threatening to overwhelm her now. She wanted to call him and hear the smirk in his voice. The last time she'd felt this awful had been after she'd tried Nate's brownies, and she remembered pulling Chuck down into the bed with her, remembered telling him she loved him -

She blinked as the streetlights blurred above her, aware that the sidewalk suddenly seemed to be coming up to meet her. She reached for the wall, bricks hard against her back. What was wrong with her? She hadn't had any pot this time, that was for sure.

She reached for her phone again, fingers sliding to the one on the speed-dial - Chuck - and the device slipped from her hand, crashing to the floor. God, her head was killing her. She felt like she was about to throw up. She needed James to come - she needed Chuck -

And a hand had suddenly slipped around her waist, steadying her. "It's ok, I've got you."

She shook her head; not Chuck. It was Damien, she realised, and she didn't want to be anywhere near him. "Get - off-"

But he was still pulling her, hailing down a taxi that passed in a blur of yellow. "Come on-"

"Miss Waldorf?"

She recognised that voice. At last. Finally, James was here -

"It's ok," Damien was telling him, "I'm gonna take her home."

The driver was saying something back, and he didn't seem happy; Blair tried to lurch towards him. "James. I need to go home." But her voice was slurred and the words were coming out wrong.

James and Damien seemed to be having some kind of argument, Damien was saying things like 'too much to drink' - but she hadn't had too much to drink, had she? She tried to tell them she hadn't but she still couldn't seem to form a sentence. And as soon as she opened her mouth, she wanted to throw up all over again. So she shut it. She couldn't be seen throwing up on the sidewalk.

"Ok," Damien was telling James impatiently, "Take us back to the dorms, then, and I'll make sure she gets to bed-"

And then she was being guided into her limo, cell phone forgotten on the ground. On the other end of the line, Chuck, who was in his own car on the way to the Columbia event, finally hung up. Blair must have called him by mistake - all he could hear were muffled sounds. But he'd be there soon enough.

Blair's limo sped away as she slipped out of consciousness and onto Damien's shoulder.


	19. Chapter 19

_Then I heard your heart beating; you were in the darkness too_

_So I stayed in the darkness with you.'_

* * *

Damien was aware, as he hauled Blair out of the limo, that there was something wrong. Her driver had climbed out too, looking deeply suspicious. They were in front of the Columbia dorms now. "What's going on?" His gaze rested on the unconscious girl. "Is she all right?"

"Of course," Damien snapped. "I told you, she just had too much to drink. She needs her bed."

James folded his arms. "Should I call her brother?"

"No." Damien ground his teeth. "You know me, remember? I was at school with her? I'll make sure she gets upstairs ok. And I'll stay with her to make sure nothing else happens. She just needs to sleep it off."

James paused. "Well, take my number so you can call in case."

The boy just about managed not to roll his eyes. "I wasn't aware Blair's driver was her new father. We'll be fine. Thanks." And he looped his arms under Blair's limp body and carried her up to the building.

The drugs weren't meant to make her lose consciousness completely. Just disorientate her. He staggered into the elevator, half dragging her to her room as he pulled the key out of her purse. And once inside, he dumped her on the sofa.

But she was completely out of it. He tried calling her name and slapping her cheeks to get her to wake up – nothing. There was a brief stab of panic as he checked to see that she was still breathing; she was. He ran a hand through his hair. Shit. This wasn't supposed to happen at all. Had she had a bad reaction to what he'd slipped her? More panic was creeping up on him as she responded to nothing and he realised her skin was cold to the touch.

If she didn't wake up -

He could get in serious trouble for this. All he'd meant to do was finally get what he was owed. What she'd refused to give him for so long. And then in the morning, when she remembered nothing, he'd tell her she'd wanted it as much as he had. He'd wanted to punish her. Scare her. Not...Crap, not this. An unconscious girl was no good to him. How could she fucking do this to him, anyway, when he was so close to getting what he'd wanted?

He paced the room, eyes sliding back to her prone figure. He'd just have to leave her here. With any luck, she'd wake up – and if she didn't? He paused. His fingerprints were all over her. James had seen him go up with her. Jesus, if she died then they'd know he was the last person with her - he shook himself. She wasn't going to die. He was being ridiculous. But...it didn't look good. If he called an ambulance then they'd find out what she'd taken, and then fingers would start being pointed, and they'd want to know what he was doing with her...

Shit, shit, shit.

He needed a plan.

Desperate inspiration struck as he headed for the bathroom, pulling open the medicine cabinets. Zofran, Panadol, Lexapro...nothing strong enough. Unless.

He yanked all the pill bottles down from their places and carried them into the next room, where Blair was still out cold. He had his own stash of pills in his coat pocket; he pulled those out too. An attempted overdose. With her history? It was perfect. He scattered all of them over the floor, all around her. This way meant that she'd get to a hospital and he'd get none of the blame.

Now he just had to get as far away from here as possible. He spared her one last glance - bitch, ruining everything - and then shut the door behind him. He was halfway along the corridor when he heard the clacking heels and familiar voice whining into a cell phone.

"...Completely ruined my night. Blair and Serena are _both _psychos.."

He managed to duck into a doorway as Penelope passed him, oblivious. He was disappearing into the elevator as he heard her open her door, heard her scream as she discovered the pills and Blair's body.

And then he was gone.

* * *

"What do you mean, you don't know where she is?"

Serena made a point of ignoring Chuck's fierce glower. "I mean don't know where she is, Chuck. She stormed off. Probably went home."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "It's not like her to leave early. And I've been calling – she's not answering."

Serena scowled in response and tried to swallow back the flicker of concern. Or guilt. "Well, maybe she doesn't want to talk to you."

"Then she'd reject my call," Chuck snapped back. "But it just keeps ringing."

"Look, she's not talking to me either-" Serena was cut off by the chimes of her own phone. She frowned when she glanced down and saw Penelope's name. She was sorely tempted to just ignore the call. "Penelope," she sighed when she finally answered. "What-"

And Chuck saw the bored irritation slide right off her face. That sense that had been twinging for the past several moments – that something was wrong – gripped him tight. "What is it?" he demanded.

Serena had gone very pale. "Wh...where is she now? Is she ok?" _She? _What other she could they be talking about? "We're on our way," Serena choked before she hung up. Even Nate was looking now, brow creased as he reached for his girlfriend's hand.

"What happened?"

"It's Blair." Her voice shook, and her eyes were wide and scared as they landed on Chuck. Chuck suddenly wasn't sure he could breathe. "We need to call Carter."

* * *

"Helloo," Tish drawled into Carter's phone. "I'm afraid that Carter is currently otherwise occupied..." She frowned as she was cut off. "Erm, what? Sorry, who is this?" Whoever it was had no manners. "Serena?" She rolled her eyes as she recalled the blonde. Why was she even calling Carter? Had she not got over her little crush? "All right, all right." She arched an eyebrow at the insistent voice on the other end of the line - God, she was so _rude_. "I'll pass you over."

Carter rolled his own eyes, taking the cell. "Look, van der Woodsen, I told you-"

His voice trailed off.

And then he'd frozen.

* * *

It was like hurtling back in time, seeing Carter's ashen face and Serena's wild, frantic blue eyes. Except they weren't on a beach this time. They were in a hospital waiting room and Blair was nowhere in sight. Chuck hadn't dragged her back, and Carter wasn't forcing her to breathe; all they could do was wait. Chuck couldn't stand it. Carter looked seconds from snapping too. He took the coffee from Tish without looking at it, without bothering to drink.

A doctor finally appeared and Carter pounced on him, instant. "Is she all right? Can I see her?"

The doctor raised a calming hand. "Mr. Waldorf?"

"Yes," Carter snarled. "Tell me what's going on."

"Your sister's stable," the doctor informed him, and the pressure around Chuck's chest eased a little. He exhaled. "We had to pump her stomach," the doctor was saying. "We found traces of a number of substances in her blood, and with that level of-"

"Wait, what?" Carter shook his head, stopping the doctor. "Substances? In her blood? What are you talking about?"

The doctor paused a moment as he looked at the young man. He cleared his throat. "Miss Waldorf's roommate claims she found her with some pills - when the ambulance picked her up..."

Carter blinked, uncomprehending. "Pills?" He remembered just that day, Lily asking him if he had a drug problem because Blair -

But that was absurd. She wasn't doing drugs, for God's sake. There had to be some kind of mistake. "My sister doesn't take drugs," he snapped.

The doctor cleared his throat again. "Given the number of pills she was found with...well, all signs point to the overdose being intentional."

Carter froze. No. No way. No, this couldn't be happening. His voice was oddly thick when it finally came out. "You're saying she tried to-"

"As I said," the doctor was firm, reassuring, "She's stable now. She hasn't woken up yet, but I think that when she does, we should look at transferring her to the psychiatric unit. It's procedure in cases like these."

The doctor disappeared and Carter felt _sick. _She couldn't. Impossible. _Why?_ He couldn't have _missed _that. Not again. She'd been doing so well at Columbia and her internship, she couldn't possibly -

He remembered a twelve year-old Blair getting As every week, passing her piano exam with honours - and he remembered her body, limp on the beach, and the knowledge that she hadn't been swimming in the sea all holiday. He remembered Serena struggling to make sense of why she'd gone in the first place - and he remembered not being able to ask her himself when she finally came round.

If she'd really just been going for a swim, or, far worse -

He'd never asked her. She'd never told him. There was an odd roaring in his ears now.

Serena was shaking her head desperately at Nate, at Chuck. "That's crazy-"

"Shut up," Carter hissed. The roaring sound wasn't going away as he rounded on the blonde. "What the hell happened at that party tonight?" And then his eyes slanted on Chuck "What the hell did you-"

"Chuck wasn't even there," Serena cut him off. "He had nothing to do with this."

"Then what?" Carter spat back. "Do you want to tell me how my sister ended up alone in her room trying to _overdose_?"

Serena visibly flinched. "Carter, she wouldn't - that makes no sense-"

"What happened tonight?"

The blonde bit her lip. "I mean, we had a fight - but that doesn't - come on," she pleaded. "You know this is insane. Blair being suicidal?"

"Has she been happy?" Carter demanded. "Sleeping with_ him_," he glowered at Chuck, "Breaking up with him, fighting with you, moving out of the penthouse-"

"Ok," Serena interrupted. "Things have been crazy, but that doesn't mean..."

"You're the one," Carter said suddenly, "Who was telling me this morning that you were_ losing_ her. So how would you even know?" The venom in his voice was blind because his brain couldn't process any of it. Had he missed the signs again? All of them? _(_And _he _was the one who hadn't spoken to Blair in days, who'd dragged out the bulimia thing, who hadn't noticed her nightmares-)

"Carter," the blonde begged, horrified. "I know Blair."

"Yeah," Carter answered viciously. "Well, did you know her six years ago, when you were so busy flirting with your little volleyball friends-"

"That's not fair." Serena's eyes sparked with tears.

"No. It's true." His gaze was blank and merciless as he regarded her. Except he wasn't really seeing her at all.

"Hey," Nate said firmly. "This is no one's fault-"

But Carter's glance had slid to Chuck. "You've been quiet, Bass." His voice sounded dangerous. "Since when do you have nothing to say?"

Chuck's eyes were dark, almost black. "I think we should wait until she wakes up." It came out flat. Carter was obviously terrified - a fear that had gripped Chuck and made it hard to breathe, still. Because the thought of losing her -

Carter's lips thinned. "I don't want you here when she wakes up."

"Carter," Nate attempted.

"In fact," he went on, ruthlessly, like the blond hadn't even spoken, "I'm pretty sure it's family members only, so..."

Serena's gaze had widened in horror again. And then she put her foot down, suddenly snapping to. Because no way was she leaving. "We _are_ her family." Her blue eyes burned into Carter's. "We're not going anywhere."

Carter ground his teeth and turned away, jaw clenched. But he let it drop. His head felt like it was about to burst in any case; it was too much. All of it.

* * *

She still hadn't woken up when they were finally allowed to see her. Carter went first - though Serena was quick to follow, and there was nothing he could do about it. Chuck remained where he was.

Nate glanced at him. "You're not going?"

"It's only two at a time," Chuck reminded him shortly. Nate looked as though he couldn't quite believe Chuck would let that stop him. Chuck didn't move.

Serena re-emerged a while later, pale and subdued.

"How is she?" Nate was quick to ask. Chuck's gaze had zeroed in on her.

"She's...still out." Serena's voice shook a little. Seeing her best friend, unmoving and attached to a drip, had made her feel sick. And it had hit her then, everything that could have happened - if Penelope hadn't come back when she did, if Blair hadn't got to the hospital in time -

She'd been unable to do anything but grip the other girl's hand and try not cry. Carter had been painfully rigid on the edge of his seat next to her. She glanced at Chuck, now. "You can go in."

Chuck didn't move. "Carter won't want me there."

"You know he didn't mean it," Serena answered wearily. "What he said before."

Chuck just shook his head. "Believe me," his promise was dry, "He won't want me there."

Serena rolled her eyes a little. "Since when has that stopped you?" She nodded. "Go on."

Chuck could feel his body stiffening, his legs refusing to move. "She's asleep." His tone was brusque. "What's the point?"

Serena and Nate both stared at him, stupidly, for a moment. "Are you serious?" Serena asked at last. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of disbelief and shock. And he didn't reply. "Chuck." She stared. "She just _overdosed,_ and you don't even want to-"

"Going to sit with her won't change anything," he said very coldly. "Except piss off Carter."

"You have never cared what Carter thought," Serena pointed out in incredulity. "Why don't you want to see her?"

And at that, Chuck lurched to his feet. He couldn't take it any more. "I told you there's no point." It came out a quiet hiss as he jerked away from them, stomach roiling, and disappeared down the corridor. Serena and Nate could only gaze helplessly after him.

* * *

When Blair woke up she had no idea where she was. Her stomach _hurt _and her throat was raw, and the room, already in darkness, blurred as she tried to sit up. What the hell had happened? For a moment fear gripped her - alone in a dark room, unable to move - until her eyes landed on a figure slumped in a chair. A figure she knew.

"Carter," she attempted. Her voice was painfully hoarse. "Carter," she tried again, struggling to raise her head. She was scared and she didn't know what was going on, and she wanted her big brother.

Carter's eyes finally snapped open, head jolting up. "Blair?" He was at her side in seconds. "You're awake." He leaned over her. "How are you feeling?"

Her hand somehow found his, reaching for his arm and then locking on his fingers. She didn't understand why her own fingers felt so useless. "Not great," she croaked. "What...happened?"

Carter regarded her; and then the eye contact was broken. "You had your stomach pumped," he muttered. "I need to call the nurse. She said when you woke up-"

Blair's grip tightened, instinctive, before he could go anywhere. "But what_ happened_?"

There was a silence. "I don't know," Carter said at last. "I was hoping you could tell me."

Blair frowned, struggling to remember - the Columbia event, Penelope and Serena and Nate, Serena thinking she was jealous, the champagne that had ruined her dress -

"I don't know." She hesitated. "I don't...remember." How could she not remember?

Carter had already called the nurse, and was reaching for a glass of water for her. "It doesn't matter. You're fine now." But he still wasn't quite looking at her, and there was a strange light that burned under his gaze.

So Blair refused to let go of his hand. "I don't understand," she said tightly. "Why did I have my stomach pumped?"

"We don't need to talk about this now." Her brother's tone was abrupt. He reached for the water again, but Blair pushed it away.

"_Carter."_

And finally, he looked at her. "Penelope found you," he murmured. "In your room. With pills."

Blair blinked in confusion._ What?_ "What pills?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus, I don't know. All the pills in your medicine cabinet."

And she could only stare. "What are you talking about?"

Carter searched her face. "You really don't remember?" He didn't believe her, she realised. Not for a second. Or...he _couldn't_ believe her. There was something desperate in his features, something she didn't understand.

"I don't...I didn't take any pills." She was sure of it. Wasn't she? But she didn't remember going to her room, either. And she must have done if that was where Penelope had found her. She remembered a headache and the wind and a brick wall; and _Chuck. _She remembered trying to call Chuck. Had she spoken to him? And then why would she have taken that many pills, unless -

Cold realisation dawned. Her gaze snapped to her brother. No. "Carter." She stared at him. "You...you don't actually think I did this deliberately, do you?"

She waited for him to tell her she was being crazy. That of course he didn't think that. How could he?

"I think you need to rest."

She lost the ability to speak for a second. No. He couldn't. "You think I tried to _kill _myself?" Her voice was still raw, rising with disbelief. "Are you serious?"

And at that, Carter's gaze snapped to hers. "What the hell am I supposed to think? You _overdosed, _Blair. You're telling me you accidentally took that many pills? What, you had a headache?"

It stuck dangerously in her throat. "So I've gone from bulimic to suicidal in less than a month?"

His nostrils flared. "I don't know," he ground out. "I have no idea. You're the one waking up in ICU." Blair's breath caught, harsh, and she saw regret flicker immediately across his features. He exhaled. "I'm sorry," he grit. "I didn't...I'm just glad you're ok. That's all that matters."

Her hand was still caught in his. She swallowed. She was going to say something else but the nurse came in, all bright smiles. "Blair. Good to see you awake." And then Carter was forced to move away as the woman fussed around her, taking her blood pressure and temperature, checking her drip and working her way through a list of questions. Blair was aware of how weary and flat she sounded as she answered.

She still didn't understand what the hell had happened.

"So." She was propped on pillows as the nurse finished up, though all she really wanted to do was sleep. "When can I get out of here?"

And she saw Carter flicker, just out of the corner of her eye. The nurse smiled again. "Well, just as soon as one of the doctors from our psychiatric unit has given you the all-clear-"

Blair stiffened. "What?"

The nurse paused, smile faltering a little at the girl's expression. "It's just routine-"

"Routine for what?" Blair demanded. Her voice was cold with anger as the woman hesitated again. "Routine for _what_?"

"Given the circumstances," she tried, valiantly, "It's-"

"What?" Blair arched an eyebrow, hands clenched on the white sheet. "You can't keep me here against my will. And you can't force me to speak to a shrink if I don't want to. Even a criminal gets a lawyer-"

"Blair." Carter rolled his eyes. Trust his sister to start an argument from her hospital bed. She'd probably win, too, if he let her carry on. (But then she always did protest most fiercely when she was in denial, an uneasy voice taunted him). He nodded for the nurse to leave.

And then Blair turned her glare on him. "I'm not waiting to talk to a psychiatrist. I don't need one."

"It's not up to me," Carter muttered back.

She watched him for a moment. "I didn't try to kill myself, Carter."

"It's not up to me," was all he repeated. She could see the doubt and the fear under his impassive expression. "You should get some sleep."

He turned away like that closed the discussion. Her fingers were still gripped round the sheets as she allowed her eyes to close, still furious and still thrown, still unable to work it out. And exhausted, above everything else.

But she was _not _suicidal.

* * *

Dawn was just starting to streak through the hospital window, and Carter was so stiff and uncomfortable in the damn chair that he _needed_ to stretch his legs. He was hoping he'd be able to grab a coffee from somewhere. Blair was still sleeping soundly - from the looks of things, too tired to even dream. She looked too pale and too still in the large hospital bed. He didn't like it. Well, he didn't like any of this. The night had passed in one surreal blur, and he didn't know what to make of any of it. He checked his phone to find a text from Tish (d_on't worry darling, provisions will be brought tomorrow - don't even think about touching that awful hospital food!) _that made him smirk for a second_._

But then he rounded the corner and came to a stop. Because Chuck Bass was sitting in the corridor, slumped in the chairs just outside of Blair's room. Out of sight. Chuck Bass. Slowly, the two boys took each other in. What the hell was he doing here? Serena and Nate had gone home hours ago, promising to return in the morning, and they'd told him that Chuck had disappeared. Not that Carter had been surprised.

They were both silent.

"She's awake?" Chuck's voice was broken when he finally spoke, low in the deserted corridor.

Carter watched him. He should, by all rights, be telling Chuck to get lost. To stay away from his sister. Instead, he nodded. Once. He walked away without another word.

Fucking Chuck Bass.

* * *

"B."

Serena paused in the doorway for only a second; and then she was practically on the bed, wrapping her arms around the brunette and squeezing her tight.

"I'm so glad you're ok," she breathed into her hair, and tears threatened again. "I'm so sorry."

Blair hugged her back. Her own eyes were stinging, she realised as she sniffed. What was wrong with her? (What was wrong with her was that she'd _missed_ this). "I'm sorry too," she mumbled.

Nate heaved a visible sigh of relief. He took his own seat at Blair's side and gave her a little nudge once the girls had finally separated. She smiled back at him, wryly.

Tish had dragged Carter off - to get a decent cup of tea, apparently - so it was just the three of them in the room. Three, Blair tried not to flinch. She couldn't bring herself to ask where he was. (And maybe it was a good thing. Maybe it was a mercy that he didn't see her brought this low, in a hospital bed-)

"So..." Serena cleared her throat. Nate shot her a warning look, but she only pulled a face back at him and worried her lip. "B...what happened last night?"

Blair looked at her best friend. And she suddenly realised that she didn't think she could take it if Serena thought, just like Carter -

"I don't know."

The blonde hesitated. "Look, the doctors and Carter have this crazy idea that - well, I know it's not true. I know it's not."

Blair blinked at her in pure surprise. "You do?"

And at that, Serena gripped her hand. "Of course I do. You're Blair Waldorf. You're not-" she paused and gulped. "I know you, B. And I'm never going to doubt you again, ok?"

Now Blair's eyes were really stinging. (Whatever medication they'd given her was clearly making her over-emotional). It took her a moment just to get the words out. "Thank you, S." It was almost a whisper.

Serena gave her a watery smile as their hands stayed linked.

"So," Nate cautioned after a bit. "What exactly did happen, then?"

Blair just shook her head. "I don't know. I don't remember." It was all she'd been saying since she'd woken up - and she didn't see how it was even possible_. _How could she have blanked it all out?

The blondes exchanged a glance. "What was the last thing you do remember?"

"After Penelope spilled her champagne over me," Blair frowned. She'd been running it through her own head, over and over. "I went outside because I wanted to go home. I had a headache. And then," her voice wavered for a second, "I...called Chuck." She remembered that. She'd wanted to see Chuck. She'd wanted to talk to him. (She still wanted to see him. She still wanted to talk to him. She _wanted _him).

"Chuck?" Serena echoed. Her brow had wrinkled. "He said he kept trying to call you."

"Yeah," Blair murmured. "I must've dropped my phone."

And then something trickled through her memory - the cell slipping through her fingers, an arm steadying her -

She shook her head to try and clear it. "I don't understand how I could _forget."_

"So you don't remember going back to your dorm? At all?" Serena looked worried as Blair shook her head again. "And the pills-"

"No. Nothing."

Nate had opened his mouth to say something else when the nurse bustled back in. Blair fixed the irritating woman with a glower of contempt. Well, she'd known last night that they weren't going to be _friends. _The nurse was happy to ignore the expression on her face as she proceeded to take her temperature. "Good news," she chirped while she worked. "Dr. Newman should be able to fit you in after lunch."

Blair continued to glower. "I'm sorry," she responded, acidic. "Is that supposed to make me _excited?" _Dr. Newman was the goddamn psychiatrist.

The nurse's smile stayed in place. "Well, the sooner you get seen, the sooner you can leave. Provided," she added under her breath, "Dr. Newman thinks you're in a fit state." It was clear that the nurse herself no longer did.

Blair's smile back was pleasant. "You'd better hope that he does."

The threat was unmistakeable as the woman scurried out and Serena repressed a grin, half amused and half exasperated. Blair caught both she and Nate looking at her and raised a haughty brow.

"What?"

Serena just closed her mouth, shaking her head. "I love you, B."

* * *

Dr. Newman was a pudgy, balding man with thick glasses and a scrunched up nose. Blair had disliked him on sight. He was talking to Carter now, outside of her room - she could see them through the window. It set her teeth on edge. She was _nineteen, _for Christ's sake. Did she not get a say in what happened to her?

To say that his questions hadn't gone well would be an understatement. His nodding and soothing tone would have driven her crazy if nothing else, but he'd kept on and on about how she'd been _feeling _that night, as if claiming not to remember was some kind of elaborate denial. She'd finally snapped; so he'd written something in his notebook and told her he was finished.

Whatever they'd given her was still making her tired, though she was far more tired from being cooped up in bed. Serena and Nate had been the highlight of her day - but they'd eventually had to leave, and now she was back to feeling overwhelmed and sore and cranky and powerless. Why didn't they _believe _her?

Why couldn't she just remember and tell them once and for all what had happened?

Outside, Carter was having a hard time swallowing what the doctor was telling him. Because they wanted to keep her in the hospital. In the psychiatric unit.

Apparently she'd shown signs of hostility and aggression throughout the consult. Well, Carter thought grimly, she'd show a lot more than that when he went back in and told her she couldn't leave. He glanced through the window now, as Dr. Newman left. She was upright against the pillows, arms folded and dark rings under her eyes. She looked drained.

The only time he'd seen her smile today had been with Serena and Nate. And Tish, when she'd produced a box of macaroons. Serena had started on a trail of excuses about Chuck, and Carter had seen the shadow cross her face before she forced it away. Of course. Because she wouldn't let anyone know that she missed or wanted him. (Carter had no intention of telling them he had, in fact, been there the whole time - if he was too much of a coward to come in, then that was his problem). He also had no idea why she _would _miss the bastard.

He had no idea what had happened last night - and, really, he had no idea what had been going on for the past few weeks. He was pretty sure Chuck and Blair hadn't even been speaking. Except that Chuck had been the one to tell them about his mother and those boxes of food...and for a moment, Carter considered the notion that Evelyn was somehow behind all of _this. _But it was impossible. What could she have done, force-fed his sister pills?

Was he just looking for excuses, he wondered?

Blair still was adamant she hadn't done anything. But what other explanation was there?

He glanced through the window one more time. What was he supposed to do? He wanted his parents, he realised. He wanted Eleanor's shrewd judgement and Harold's calm observation. His parents would have known what to do. They would have taken charge.

But they weren't here. It was up to him. He exhaled. He should probably look for some kind of protection before he headed back into his sister's room, as there were bound to be objects thrown once he told her.

* * *

_It was dark and the covers were stifling her, trapping her in place. She knew that something bad was happening just on the other side of the door. Voices and awful flickering red lights, a sense of dread that crept closer and closer. She needed to move. She needed to get out. But her legs were frozen. She tried to kick them and they didn't respond. Fear gripped her, climbing up her throat as the voices buzzed closer and closer, and she tried to scream but nothing came out. She was defenceless. Useless and weak, and she couldn't do anything but she knew that once it reached her, once that door opened -_

Blair woke up doused in cold sweat, heart hammering. A whimper escaped from her throat. She was alone in a dark room, the covers stifling her and her legs strangely weak and stiff, a flickering light somewhere that made her hands fist on the sheets in terror. But she wasn't dreaming. She was awake.

She sucked in a breath. She was awake. She was in hospital. Her eyes slid to the chair – it was empty. Of course it was. She'd finally managed to convince Carter to go home because he hadn't showered and was in danger crimping his neck permanently in that chair. Alone. She was alone.

Her heart gradually returned to its normal pace, though her vision was still blurry with tears that she loathed. Because this time, awake, she really was trapped and helpless in bed. She was exhausted and disorientated and sick of the lemon smell of disinfectant. She wanted to go home. She closed her eyes, tight, as her head pressed back against the pillow. She had a futile urge to scream but she was too tired. Her eyes ached from crying in her sleep - because even now the damn nightmares wouldn't leave her alone. She kept her eyes shut, knowing damn well that sleep wouldn't come again, nails still pressed into the stiff fabric of her bedcovers. She couldn't take another night here. She couldn't.

She felt the presence before she heard it. The back of her neck was prickling as her eyes snapped open; she strained to see in the darkened room.

And her breath caught, uneven.

Chuck was standing in the doorway.

He looked a state. His face was paper white, even in the dim light, eyes ringed like he hadn't slept in days. His suit was wrinkled and his hair unkept. And his gaze burned through the dark, straight into her.

"Chuck." His name stuck in her throat and it nearly broke. Her head was clearly still woozy - because for a moment she wasn't even sure that he was real. Her chest hurt. He was too close, his presence overwhelming her; and too far away, at the door when she could hardly move out of her bed.

And he just stood there, watching her. His breathing was rough. When he finally spoke his voice was very low. "Did you do it?"

Blair stared at him numbly. He was asking her. He was asking her, like he thought she had. Like it was a question. She could handle the therapist thinking she had. She could handle Carter thinking she had. But not him. Not Chuck. Never Chuck. She needed him to _believe _her. She needed him – she needed him not to even need to ask.

So she said nothing. She pressed her lips together and said nothing, fingers suddenly impossibly tight around the sheets. Her whole body _ached._

Chuck looked at her for a second longer, gaze still burning, and then he turned on his heel and walked out. She heard his footsteps echo down the corridor as she lay in her bed.

And she'd had _enough._

She'd had enough.

She dragged the thin covers off her, heart suddenly pounding as she swung her legs down from the mattress. Her limbs were weak and shaky from lying down for so long, the ground cold beneath her bare feet. And each step hurt, her pace unsteady and her breathing uneven. But she grit her teeth and carried on – and as she struggled out of her room she could see him, see him move away from her along the corridor, each step so fast and so easy compared to her own.

She called his name.

She saw him freeze. His whole back was rigid as he turned, slowly. And then he was suddenly heading back to her, strides twice the size of hers. He grabbed her arm, and she could see the hard fear in his eyes and the set of his jaw. She could see another emotion that she didn't understand, but she didn't care.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. Why the hell had she got out of bed? He could feel her tremble in his grip. She looked impossibly small in her white hospital gown, and he could see the bruises from that godawful drip, shading the wrist that he held.

But her eyes were fierce and dark as she glared up at him. "What are _you_ doing?" she snapped back. "Why did you even bother coming to see me, Chuck?"

Silence while his eyes searched her. And then his face shuttered. "I don't know," he bit. He released her and started to turn away.

And she felt her blood boil. "Fine," she hissed after him. "Run away again." She shook her head as she curled her arms around herself, tight. "You're a coward," she told him, and it echoed in the empty corridor. He'd stopped. "You're scared. Of _me." _It was spilling out now, hot and furious. "I waited." That summer. "I waited for you the first time I got back from boarding school, because I was stupid enough to think you'd want to see me too. But you were a coward then, and you're a coward now. You can't even _look _at me."

He could ignore her, mock her, hate her – but pity? No. She was Blair Waldorf, and Chuck Bass would _not _pity her. She could see anger etched into his features now, and she was glad. He reeled on her, and his eyes were so black that anyone else might have flinched. She stayed exactly where she was.

"Scared of you?" he snarled. He was seconds from her face now, so close that she could breathe him in, so close that she could see the exhaustion written all over him. "You really think," he said quietly, "That I wanted to see you that summer? You really think I wanted to spend every day pretending everything was fine, when I knew that after a few weeks you'd be gone again? You really think I could have seen you every day and not told you going away was _wrong? _Not told you that I wanted you to _stay_?"

Staying away from her that summer had easily been the least selfish thing he'd ever done. He_ wouldn't_ have been able to lie. Not to her. Hell, he'd have schemed all summer just to stop her from leaving. Not seeing her at all had been the only solution.

She stared at him, arms still wrapped around her body. Uncomprehending. "But that's what I wanted," she murmured at last. Her voice, now, was drained. "I wanted someone to tell me to stay."

She'd wanted Carter to stop smirking and telling her how dull things had been at home, Serena to stop hugging her and asking her about how amazing Canterbury was – she wanted someone to stop _smiling _and admit that they'd made a mistake. That they needed her in New York. That she belonged in New York, that she belonged with them.

And Chuck was suddenly reminded of a twelve year old girl shaking in a limo, of a single tear and a small voice admitting that she didn't want to go. He'd told himself that Carter was her brother and he knew better, that they were right and she needed to get out – that it wasn't up to him, because what did he know about making people happy?

_I don't want to go._

She was tired. So tired.

Tired of the hospital, tired of feeling weak, of no one believing her - tired of _wanting_ Chuck. She slumped against the wall, sliding down till she was on the floor. And she folded her knees into herself and closed her eyes.

There was a moment's silence before Chuck spoke. "I'm not scared of you." She gazed up at him. Slowly, he crouched down next to her. Till he was sitting at her side on the hospital ground. He didn't look at her. "I'm scared of...me." It was barely audible. Because he was terrified. Terrified he'd hurt her, terrified he'd make her miserable. He'd been terrified he didn't know _how _to love. "It's my fault," he croaked. "That this happened."

Blair's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

He just shook his head. "Evelyn-"

She bit her lip as realisation dawned. (He didn't think it was her? It hadn't even occurred to him that-) And then she swallowed, angrily. "Chuck. Whether or not your mother was involved in this...it has nothing to do with you. You're not responsible for her actions."

He gave her a look, and she finally snapped.

"You don't think I can stand up to Evelyn myself? You don't think there are women all over the Upper East Side with their sights set on Waldorf Designs?"

"None like her," Chuck ground back.

"So?" she demanded. "You don't think I can take her?"

His mouth twitched, bitter. "I know _you _can."

She was a mess, tired and weaker than she'd ever felt, curled on a linoleum floor – and still his voice was ringed in admiration, in the simple, unshakeable knowledge that she was _strong._ He'd seen her at her weakest and dirtiest - and he was on the floor with her. Her eyes moved over his ruffled hair and the sharp line of his pale cheeks. He was a mess too.

"I don't want you," she murmured, "To be sweet. Or selfless." His gaze was dark as it rested on her; but there was no pity. They were incapable of pity. Chuck knew her. He knew the darkest parts of her. She knew the darkest parts of him, and she loved him for them. She loved every part of him. Her voice was tight, her hands still curled around her knees. "I just want you."

His eyes, always so slanted and so sharp, were black and wide in the dim light as he stared at her. She watched him back, head pressed against the wall in her exhaustion. The floor was cold underneath the thin hospital gown; and his arm slid under her, warm, as he pulled her to her feet. He lifted her up and she allowed her face to sink into his much softer chest. His shirt was creased under her cheek – and she inhaled him, eyes closing, as he carried her back down the corridor.

It wasn't until they were both curled on the narrow mattress of her bed – Chuck still fully dressed, his knees pressed into the backs of hers and his chin hard against her shoulder – that she realised just how tightly she was gripping the back of his hand, her nails embedded in his knuckles. Chuck said nothing. She didn't let go.

"Carter thinks I tried to kill myself," she murmured into the darkness. Her eyes had shut again, feeling the thump of his heart. She could feel sleep finally sneaking up on her as she lay tight against him. "I don't...how did you know I didn't?"

She felt his breathing on her neck. _Because I know you, _he wanted to say – because it was that simple. "I saw you," he muttered instead. Her rib cage rose and fell under his hand. "That day. In the sea." Carter hadn't known what to think – Carter had feared the worst – and Blair hadn't been able to answer him. No wonder Carter didn't know what to think now. But Chuck had seen her. He'd seen her try to swim against the tide, and he'd felt her kick out when he'd finally caught her. "You were fighting, Waldorf."

He'd seen her?

Blair paused. She'd always assumed that Carter had been the one to pull her out. But she could feel the tightness of Chuck's grip now, the heat of his breath – and she wondered how she could ever _not _have known. Chuck had pulled her out. Chuck had seen her fighting. Chuck knew. She shifted her head back, against the solid heat of his chest, and her nails were still sharp against his skin as she finally slipped out of consciousness.

He'd been here long enough now to decide that he hated the smell of hospitals; the sour stink of disinfectant and sickness. He buried his nose in the sweet scent of her skin, her hair, finally exhaling. _I just want you. _He was close enough to count each eyelash, and he remembered holding her as she slept another night – the first night they'd slept together – remembered the tight feeling in his chest that still hadn't gone away.

He whispered it into the darkness, against the shell of her ear as his own eyes closed.

"I love you."


	20. Chapter 20

'_And I'm not gonna take it back_

_And I'm not gonna say I don't mean that _

_You're the target that I'm aming at_

_And I'm nothing on my own_

_And I love you, please come home.'_

* * *

Carter was feeling a hundred times better since showering and sleeping in his own bed. Well, sleeping with a certain red-head in his own bed. And spending time out of that goddamn hospital had decided one thing for him - Blair was better off as far away from it as possible. (And away from the doctors and their worried glances, away from the sight of Blair motionless with a drip in her arm, thoughts of suicide started to seem more and more remote). She needed out of there. How the hell were hospitals supposed to make anyone feel better?

Of course, as soon as he started up that squeaky corridor, now, and the hospital smell hit him all over again, so did the fear. That gnawing terror right at the back of his mind, the panic that he'd missed something. He'd left her alone last night. (And hadn't it always been because he was too wrapped up in his own life that he'd missed these things? He'd been out when his parents had died, hadn't even found out till the next morning. He'd been too busy drinking in the Hamptons when Blair had-)

Tish had sleepily told him last night that Blair seemed far too clever to do such a messy job if she really had wanted to kill herself - and anyway, how could anyone about to inherit Waldorf Designs possibly be suicidal?

She'd made it sound so simple. But it was less simple when you were looking at your sister in a hospital bed. Carter exhaled, briefly, before pushing the door open. And then he came to a stop - because his sister was not alone in the hospital bed.

A fully-dressed Chuck Bass - shoes and all - lay curled around her sleeping frame. Carter's immediate reaction was outrage. Because what the hell was he doing, suit and hair far too dark against the white of the sheets, far too close and far too large next to Blair? The bed was narrow enough as it was; he practically swallowed her. And then there was something unsettling about those pale faces, the matching shadows under their eyes, hands intertwined and Blair's brown locks spread across the pillow to mix with his. The Basstard had finally manned up enough to go in, then. (About time). They both looked exhausted. And they both looked completely at peace. For once.

Carter pursed his lips.

Well, no doubt a nurse would come and throw Bass out soon anyway. Carter might as well save his energy. He hoped the nurse was particularly aggressive, he decided as he walked out of the room and left them to it. For now, he reminded himself. Just for now.

Fucking Bass.

* * *

Chuck was woken by the buzzing of his phone. It took him a moment to recognise the sound; because the first thing he was aware of as his eyes opened was the body curled into his. The softness of her shoulder under his chin. Her warmth. He shifted, the crick in his neck forgotten as he breathed her in, half asleep. His cell buzzed again and he felt her shift underneath him. What he wanted to do was ignore the damn thing. Fall back asleep with her. Forget anything and anyone else but her.

But the phone carried on.

He stifled a groan and reached between their bodies and into his pocket to retreive the infernal device. Blair made a noise as she woke up, turning to press closer against him so that her face was buried in his chest.

He checked the cell's screen with one arm still wrapped around her.

It was a message from Bart.

_Chuck, _it read. _I have consulted with Evelyn, and she took a flight yesterday__ to the Dominican Republic. She will remain there for the summer. We both agree that the space will be best for all of us. Please pass my regards on to Blair; your mother is unaware of her current situation. I expect to see you in the office next week. Don't concern yourself with anything in the mean time - the situation has been dealt with. Thank you for all your help. _

Brisk and to the point as ever. (Had his secretary sent it?) Chuck just stared for a moment. The Dominican Republic?

"What is it?" Blair murmured from his shirt. She'd felt him pause against her.

And he took a while before answering. "I don't think Evelyn was behind this," he said at last. _Your mother is unaware of her current situation_ - that was what Bart was saying, essentially, wasn't it? Though how his father had even found out - "She's gone." He glanced at the cell again. "Bart convinced her to go to the Dominican Republic."

Blair moved so that she was looking up at him. "How?"

"I don't know." But whatever his father had on Evelyn, it was clearly good.

"Are you pleased?" she asked softly. Her brown eyes were hazy with sleep as they searched him, and her touch was gentle on the side of his face. Understanding. Her fingers traced his cheek and he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in that touch forever.

He finally broke the silence as something settled in his chest. "Relieved." He felt relief. Relief, pure and consuming as the girl before him. She kissed him. He kissed her back and the sensation threatened to burst through his chest as he pulled her closer. Her hand tangled in his hair, the other fisted on his collar. He kissed her deeply, letting the feeling sing through his veins. He forgot his stiff muscles and the cramp in his legs from staying so closely wrapped round her in such a small space - forgot anything other than the glow of her dark eyes and the heat of her body and the taste of her and the sudden elation that gripped him.

There was nothing, he realised. Nothing that was more right than this.

"Chuck," she whispered. She held him tight; and as they gazed at each other, still squashed into that tiny hospital bed like nothing else existed - not the morning light streaming through the window or the lingering scent of disinfectant or the distant nurses making their rounds - he realised that he knew what she was going to say. He knew. "I-"

"Good morning!"

The door sprang open and two blondes tumbled in. And then came to an abrupt stop as they took in the sight before them.

"Oh." Serena's blue eyes were very wide. "Um, hi Chuck."

Both she and Nate were trying and failing not to stare. Nate blinked as though expecting his best friend to disappear at any moment; and Serena looked torn between a wide grin and sheer confusion.

"So," she asked innocently, gaze resting on their still linked hands, "Did you...spend the night?"

Blair rolled her eyes and sat up a little in the bed. Chuck sat up too, shifting to the edge of the matress - though their hands didn't separate. "All right," Blair muttered. "Calm down."

"I'm calm," Serena protested as her grin stretched even wider. Her eyes still looked like they were about to pop out of her head - clearly, she had a million and one questions for her best friend.

"And what exactly merits this early visit?" Chuck enquired before she could blurt any of them out.

Serena and Nate exchanged a glance as their mission was brought back to them. "Questions," Nate informed him quite seriously. "We're going to work out what happened."

"We figured the earlier we started, the better," Serena added. She pulled something out of her bag. "We were discussing it for most of last night."

Blair raised an incredulous eyebrow as she realised the blonde was holding a sheet of paper. "You drew up a...pie chart?" The paper was covered in lists and diagrams.

"Are you surprised?" Serena wondered.

Blair just smirked. "Proud." The two of them grinned at each other.

"Ok," Nate went on. "So we started with a timeline of all the events we could piece together. First of all-"

"We think someone set you up," Serena interupted eagerly. She ignored Nate's noise of protest; he'd wanted to explain their clever process. "And we think," she declared, "That it was Penelope."

"In the drawing room, with the candle stick?" Chuck's tone was dry.

Serena shot him a glare. "With pills. She was the one who conveniently found Blair in her room - she must have put the pills there, or given them to her, to make it look like Blair wanted to take an overdose." She and Nate both seemed quite proud of this conclusion.

"No," Chuck drawled after a mere moment of consideration. "Penelope's not that devious. She may be a bitch, but she's not that clever. Or unhinged." (Unlike his mother, something whispered uneasily at the back of his mind. Bart had seemed very sure that she'd had no part in it - but how did he really know?)

Blair seemed to realise the direction his thoughts were taking; she gave him a little glance. "But that doesn't explain how I got there in the first place," she pointed out. "Or why I can't remember anything before that."

Nate's brow furrowed.

"What's the last thing you do remember?" Chuck asked, slow. Because not remembering anything sounded suspiciously like the effects of a date rape drug. But at a Columbia event? "Did you feel unwell?"

Blair frowned as she struggled to recall. "I...yes." Yes, she realised. "I went outside because I needed some air. I felt dizzy."

Serena looked at Chuck - the same thing had occurred to her. "Nauseous?"

"Yes." Blair paused between the two of them. "What?"

"Did you drink anything from someone you didn't know?" Serena had done the same herself enough times; she was watching her friend with concern now.

Blair shook her head in frustration. "Of course not." She wasn't _stupid_. Then she stopped. "Well...there were people handing out champage all night. But they were waiters. It was champagne from the staff - everyone was drinking it. Including you," she added defensively.

Serena worried on her lip. "So it could have been anyone," she murmured. "It may not even have been meant for you."

And it still didn't explain how Blair had ended up in her dorm room surrounded by pills."Do you think you might have been trying to make yourself feel better?" Nate suggested as something occurred to him. "When you got back? Maybe you tried to find an aspirin-"

"And pulled down my entire medicine cabinet?"

He shrugged. "It's possible."

"How did you get home?" Chuck enquired. "Can you remember at all?" If she'd been feeling that ill - and if it really had been from the effects of something like ketamine - then he was sure she would have had difficulty getting anywhere far alone. (He didn't like that feeling. Because in that state, anything could have happened to her; to _Blair-_)

"No," she murmured. "Maybe I called James?"

Chuck was already reaching for his cell to call the guy himself. Blair's own phone was still in her dorm room, forgotten in all the drama.

"Mr. Bass?" James' voice on the other end of the line was anxious once he picked up. "Is everything ok? I heard about Miss Waldorf-"

Chuck assured him that it was all fine. "I was wondering if you remembered taking Miss Waldorf home that night?"

"Yes," James confirmed, sounding even more unhappy. "She wasn't feeling well, but her friend assured me he'd take care of her. I didn't realise she'd had quite so much to drink, or I wouldn't have just left-"

"What friend?" Chuck intercut with a frown. Surely not Penelope? No - James had said 'he'. Blair, Serena and Nate were all staring at him now.

"From school," the driver explained. "Mr. Dalgaard?"

Chuck hung up. His eyes moved slowly to Blair's as it sunk in - and the single name echoed around the hospital room.

"Damien."

* * *

Carter gazed between the four of them, arms folded. "So, let me get this straight." His brow was arched. "You're telling me geeky little Damien Dalgaard, the ambassador's son, is actually an international drug-dealer who roofied your drink," he glanced at his sister, "Then kidnapped you to your own room and faked an overdose to...?"

"Cover it up," Nate filled in helpfully.

"Right." There was a flat silence.

"I know it sounds crazy-" Serena attempted, but Blair regarded her brother.

"Carter." Her voice was quiet. "I'm not suicidal." He watched her back. "I never have been." They assessed each other in silence.

"Right," Carter said again, finally. His expression was unreadable. "Excuse me." He turned and strode out of the room.

Serena tossed her best friend a worried look. Well, she figured, at least they'd tried.

* * *

Nate scanned the befuddling row of teddies before him. Who knew a hospital gift shop could be so well-stocked? Serena had brought some of Blair's clothes and was helping pick her outfit while the boys picked out some flowers for her room. Or at least, that was what they were supposed to be doing. Chuck hadn't even bothered to search through the carnations - his reponse had been an instant _no. _He'd already ordered an arrangement from Blair's favourite florist instead.

"Hey," Nate chuckled as a bright green rabbit with a goofy smile caught his eye, "This one's kind of-"

"Tacky," Chuck supplied. He hardly deigned to look at the offending item - his wrinkled nose said it all. "Blair won't want that in the same room as her."

Nate sighed. Well, Serena would have laughed. He might just get it for her anyway. How could anyone not find those little buck teeth hilarious? "Well," he muttered, "I'm glad Blair's not my girlfriend."

Chuck's eyes had narrowed on him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The blond raised his hands in defense. "Nothing, man." Clearly the subject was still a little sensitive for his best friend. "Just that I think you're one of the only people who knows what she wants." And he felt sorry for anyone else who tried to work that out.

Chuck was silent. Did he know what she wanted? He knew all the small things - the easy things. Her favourite restauarants and novels and movies and plays, operas and music and pieces of jewellery. Clothes that she liked, flowers, her favourite colour. Underwear. He knew exactly what she wanted in bed, always. He knew how she liked to be kissed. He knew her favourite season, her favourite holidays, all her favourite places. He knew each and every one of her moods - when she was angry, or upset, or scared, or excited. He knew how to make her laugh. Knew how to make her cry, too. He knew how to turn her on and how to comfort her. Knew her favourite foods and desserts. Exactly what drink - which wine, which champagne - she would or wouldn't like. Her knew her taste as well as he knew his own. He knew her ambitions and all her dreams. Her fears. He knew her insecurities, knew what worried her and kept her awake at night. He knew her nightmares. He knew her fantasies. He knew exactly who she was, and exactly who she wanted to be.

And he knew who she wanted. It scared him, but he knew who she wanted. He knew what she wanted. And he knew exactly what_ he_ wanted. Her. Always her.

Nate was looking at him sideways. "Did you tell her yet?"

A whispered confession while she was asleep didn't count. And what she'd been on the verge of telling him that morning - Chuck's voice stuck uncomfortably in his throat.

* * *

"So," Serena pressed. "Did you?"

"Did I what?" Blair feigned obliviousness as she focused on brushing her hair.

Her best friend rolled her eyes heavenwards. "You _know_ what." She was still waiting, expectant.

So Blair eventually released a noise of irritation and put the brush down. "No, I didn't."

"B," Serena wailed. "He spent the whole night in your hospital bed, and you still haven't admitted your feelings for each other?"

"Hey," Blair snapped - but the blonde didn't let her finish. Or let her go on to explain that she might have been about to before a certain interruption that morning.

"Blair," she said impatiently. "You missed him all that time you were in boarding school-"

"I did-"

"Don't even try to deny it!" Serena cried. "You couldn't keep your hands of each other when you got back, you lost your _virginity _to him, you were sleeping with him for _months, _you were _miserable _when you were apart, he was the only one to believe you in all that," she lowered her voice a little, "Bulimia trouble, he went against his mother for you, you couldn't even date other guys because of him, and now you've finally got him to stop running away - and you're telling me, after all that, you can't even admit that you love him?"

"Keep it down," Blair hissed, terrified that Chuck might walk in at any moment.

"Why?" Serena insisted. "He needs to hear it."

"Yes, but not from a conversation with someone else!" Blair took a breath as Serena gazed at her, head titled. She shook her head. "I'm going to tell him, S. But it needs to be at the right time."

"What's wrong with now?"

Blair glared at her. "Other than the fact that I'm in hospital for a suicide I never attempted?"

But Serena refused to let that deter her. "A hospital that he stayed in. All night. All week, in fact." Her mouth curved in triumph - "He hasn't been home since you were admitted."

"So-"

"So life is short," Serena said at last, exasperated. "And don't you think you've punished yourself enough?"

Blair looked up at her best friend. "What do you mean, punished myself?" She had not been _punishing _herself. What the hell was Serena talking about?

"Living in dorms?" the other girl sighed. "Killing yourself with the internship and your grades and extra-curricular? Keeping your relationship with Chuck a secret? Breaking up with him at all?"

Blair blinked. "I haven't been-"

"B." Serena's tone had suddenly softened as she took the seat next to her bed. "I know you're scared. And I know...I know you want to make Eleanor happy." There were abrupt tears stinging Blair's eyes and she wasn't sure why. Where had they come from, for God's sake? "I know you're never going to stop striving," the blonde smiled a little. "But you can't keep setting all these goals for yourself and telling yourself it's not enough. You're Blair Waldorf," she said, firmly. "That's enough. Whatever you do. Whoever you become. You will always be Blair Waldorf - nothing is ever going to change that." She threaded the smaller girl's fingers through hers. "You're my best friend. And no matter how hard you try to push me away, or how far you try to run - you'll always be my best friend. We're family."

Blair couldn't speak for a moment. So she just held her hand, swallowing.

Serena smiled again and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I love you, B."

"I love you too."

The blonde bumped their noses together. "See," she teased. "That's all you need to say. To him," she added in clarification. Her head was still tilted. "It's not so hard, is it?"

* * *

Damien was sulking. He'd been in a bad mood ever since the whole Blair Waldorf mess. Because _messy _really wasn't him. It just wasn't his style. He was confident that he'd got away with it – he'd heard that Blair was awake, and if accusation were going to be made, then they would have been made by now. Clearly she remembered nothing. But what irritated him was that after all that stress, he hadn't even gained anything. For all his hard work – nothing.

He was done with New York. At least for now. He'd booked a ticket to Paris – and he wasn't planning on returning till he felt a bit less pissed. All those months he'd wasted on Blair – and where had it got him? Panicking in a shitty dorm room with an unconscious girl. Who, he realised now, wasn't even that hot. In fact – she was pretty average. He'd just wanted what he couldn't have. All those times he'd watched her in the shower; hell, he could've watched _anyone_ else. The frigid act that she'd put on (and it had been put on, since it was clear she was a little slut for Chuck Bass) had tricked him into thinking she was more desirable than she really was. He'd probably return in a couple of years and fuck her easily, then wonder what all the fuss had been about. Blair Waldorf was one over-rated, stuck up bitch.

Who he _still _hadn't managed to sleep with.

He was also in a foul mood because he had dinner with his father that night – and spending any time with the old man was always guaranteed to ruin his day further.

He couldn't wait to get to Paris. Put this all behind him, find new clients and new girls. Hotter girls. French girls.

He was just re-checking the coke supply he had hidden in a hollowed-out Bible when there was knock on his hotel room door. Housekeeping, he thought with even more irritation, were getting later and later. It was gone midday, for Christ's sake. He opened the door to snap at them – and then froze at the figure on the other side.

Carter Waldorf didn't wait for Damien to invite him in. He simply pushed past and into the suite, slamming the door behind him. By the time a stiff Damien had followed him in, the guy was sitting in his silk-upholstered armchair like he owned the place.

"Sit," he invited. His voice was icy.

Damien took the chair opposite. "Carter," he managed. He had to play it cool. "Can I help you?"

The corner of Carter's mouth twisted into flat smile that didn't match his merciless gaze. "I'm going to ask you a question," he said pleasantly. "And you'd better tell the truth." His fingers drummed the armrest, idle.

Damien forced a smile. "Ask away." He had an alibi for the night. He was safe. Carter couldn't possibly -

"What did you to my sister on Saturday night after you drugged her?"

Damien just about managed not to choke. But he was a natural-born liar, he reminded himself. And there was no possible way Blair could have remembered. His airway felt constricted. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Carter continued to watch him. Then he gave a little sigh. "All right."

Damien thought for one wild moment that he'd actually succeeded – but Carter was reaching for his cell. "Sir?" He spoke into the receiver as his cold blue eyes scanned Damien again. "Yes, I'm there now. I'll see you then."

Damien drew himself upright. He couldn't stand not knowing what was going on. "Who were you-"

"No," Carter cut him off smoothly. "I haven't finished asking questions yet. What did you do to Blair, Dalgaard?"

"I told you," Damien snarled. "I have no idea-"

"Just answer the question."

But before Damien could open his mouth to deny it again, his door opened for the second time. And all the blood drained from Damien's face when his father strode in. He did not look impressed. Damien could only watch, numb, as Carter rose to shake the old man's hand. What was his father doing _here? _Carter had _contacted_ him?

"Thank you for coming."

Lars Dalgaard gave a curt nod as his gaze zeroed in on his son. "What the hell have you done?" he demanded.

"I - nothing!" Damien was fumbling over his words like he always, always did in the presence of his father. Real panic had started to claw at his chest. "He's lying, I-"

He received a backhand from the man, hard. It jerked his head back as Carter watched quite calmly.

"Rape?" Lars hissed. He loomed over his son. "How could you be so fucking stupid?"

Damien could feel himself quivering under his father's gaze. "I didn't rape anyone! I didn't, I swear-"

"Then how do you explain the girl in the hospital?"

"That had nothing to do with me," Damien insisted. It couldn't be traced back to him. It _couldn't_. "She took an overdose, you know I've never touched drugs." He was a straight A student, he'd been on honour roll. He was polite and charming and helpful -

Carter had nonchalantly got to his feet; he moved, easy, to the other side of the room. Damien didn't understand what he was doing. But then his insides turned to ice when the guy turned back round and he saw what he was holding. The bible. It was almost in slow-motion that Carter tilted the spine of the book, allowing the pages to flutter open and all that white powder to spill in silence to floor. White powder that drifted everywhere, coating every surface as Lars' nostrils flared in sheer fury and he started to shake his son hard enough that Damien thought his head would snap off.

"You better start telling the truth!" he roared with every shake. And Carter still watched impassively.

"I didn't rape her," Damien gibbered. "I swear, I swear I didn't - I put something in her drink, and she had a bad reaction, and I freaked out - I left her, I left her - I didn't touch her! I swear, I didn't touch her!"

"Oh - you swear, do you?" Lars sneered. His grip hadn't losened one bit. "Are you going to swear that in court?"

Damien turned to Carter, desperate. "I didn't touch her. I didn't touch her, ok? She was unconscious - that wasn't supposed to happen - I didn't touch her. I put the pills around her to make it look like an accident - but I never touched her. I didn't rape her. I didn't!"

Carter just cocked his head. "Why should I believe you?" he enquired without emotion.

"Because - she was unconscious. I don't do unconscious girls." His father's fingers bit into his shoulders. "And Penelope came in," Damien struggled wildly. "I wouldn't even have had time - ask Penelope! I didn't touch her! Dad," he added in vain. "It wasn't rape."

Lars' face was inches from his own. "You'd better hope for your sake," he growled, "That it wasn't."

Carter considered a while longer before giving a little nod. "Well, I can see that the two of you need a conversation. I'll be on my way."

Lars still had one hand clenched on his son's shirt as he shook in Carter's hand in his other. "My apologies again." His hard eyes flickered back to the boy and Damien gulped in fear. "Don't worry. I will be dealing with my son."

Cater left them to it. He closed the hotel room door behind him on Damien's snivelling - and the last thing Damien saw was his brief, pitiless smile.

* * *

"I love it," Serena laughed, scrunching her face up at the stuffed green monstrosity. Blair only just managed to keep her repulsed expression in check. What had Nate been thinking? But unfortunately Serena's enthusiasm was not faked; both she and Nate were _cooing_ over the hideous thing.

"It's...different," Blair agreed.

Nate grinned at her. "Don't worry. Chuck's just picking up your flowers from the desk."

Blair breathed a sigh of relief. "They're not-"

"They're not carnations," Nate sighed. The brunette smiled and settled against her pillow contentedly.

* * *

Chuck was on his way back up the corridor with the peonies when he saw Carter. The other guy had the grim light of satisfaction in his eyes that Chuck knew all too well - it was the light of vengeance.

"You spoke to Dalgaard?" he ventured with a raised brow.

"Better," Carter smirked back. "I spoke to his father. Let's just say I don't think he'll be seeing the light of day for quite some while."

Chuck paused for a moment. He almost didn't want to ask the next question. "Did anything-"

"I checked with James and Penelope," Carter stopped him brusquely. "He was only with her in the apartment long enough to position all the pills."

Chuck released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Truthfully, he was disappointed he hadn't been there to see Damien's demise himself. But he knew that, he and Blair aside, Carter was the best person to execute revenge. If Carter wanted someone gone, then they were gone. The two boys carried on down the corridor in silence, pausing only when they got to Blair's room.

"So...she can leave?" Chuck knew she'd be over the moon.

"I need to speak to that shrink," Carter sighed. "Though they might have a hard time swallowing any of this." Plus he was quite sure Blair wouldn't want what had actually happened to get out - it looked like the hospital might be due a hefty donation. He paused as his eyes lingered on the bouquet Chuck was still holding. "I hope you don't think you're going to win her back with a bunch of flowers."

Chuck's lips twitched, wryly. As if. "Of course not."

Carter regarded him. "Good." He went to push in front to get to his sister's room first; and the he paused for a moment, glancing back. "Oh, and Bass? Hurt her again," he bared his teeth, "And you'll _wish_ you were Damien Dalgaard."

* * *

"So." Carter studied his sister. "How are you feeling?"

It was just the two of them in the room - Carter had sent the others out to get dinner, although he highly doubted they'd be away for too long.

Blair looked thoughtful. "Disappointed," she reflected. "I wish I could've seen Damien's face. Or at least played a bigger role in his takedown." Carter rolled his eyes; she smiled, faintly, at him. "Thank you."

"Oh," he murmured, "It was my pleasure."

Blair shifted in her bed. "No, I mean...thank you for believing me." Her brown eyes were serious this time, her voice quiet. "I mean it."

Carter exhaled, jaw sliding briefly. "I should have believed you from the beginning," he admitted at last. It came out very tight - Carter was not accustomed to admitting he'd been wrong. Ever.

"Well, no argument there."

Her brother gave her a quick glower. "You could have been more honest about certain things," he pointed out archly. "You can't lie that convincingly and then expect me to somehow know when you choose to tell the truth."

He watched Blair purse her lips. "There are some things-"

"I'm talking about the nightmares and therapy," he intercut. And he then pulled a face. "Not whatever you get up to with Chuck." Her mouth twitched, and they were both quiet for a moment.

Then; "I'm sorry too." She looked up at her big brother. "I...should have told you." Carter just nodded - but his eyes, for once, had almost softened. The situation was verging dangerously close to heart-to-heart - a little too close for any Waldorf.

Fortunately they were interrupted by the chime of Carter's phone - he was quick to glance down at the screen. "Tish wants to come over." Blair noticed that the softness in his gaze hadn't entirely disappeared.

"To see me?" she queried. "Or you?"

His scowl was instant. "You, of course."

Blair sent him a perfectly guileless smile. "Of course."

* * *

Blair had been told she'd be staying in one more night for observation - and then, finally, she'd be free to go. She could hardly wait until morning came. But the truth was that she was feeling quite exhausted by the time night crept up. Tish had only just left, followed by Serena and Nate. She'd convinced Carter to spend the night at home again; her brother had made some kind of pointed comment about no non-family members being allowed to stay the night before he'd gone. Blair, of course, had rolled her eyes and ignored the comment.

Her head sank back against the pillow now as the lights outside dimmed. She'd planned on staying awake, but...

She was half awoken - she didn't know how long later - by a familiar weight on the hospital mattress. She shifted into his body, head seeking the hollow of his throat. He smelt of cologne and a freshly pressed shirt, soft against her cheek.

"You changed," she said sleepily.

"As requested." His voice was a rumble against her. She wanted to drink him in, even in the dark, but sleep was threatening to engulf her again. She had to tell him, she remembered.

"Chuck..."

Surely the nurse had been lying when she'd said the medicine was non-drowsy. Bitch. Tomorrow, she swore as she nestled closer to the warmth of Chuck's body. She would tell him tomorrow. First thing tomorrow.

Chuck felt her head loll against him in sleep. He really had been planning on telling her, this time, when she was awake.

* * *

Blair awoke the next morning to an empty bed, rather than Chuck's familiar heat – and to the irritated scowl of that bitch nurse instead of Chuck's dark eyes. "Miss Waldorf," she started sternly. "I just caught a young man sneaking down your corridor. You know that we have a very strict policy for visitors-"

"I'm aware," Blair snapped back. Had Chuck heard the woman coming and made his escape? "I have no idea who you're talking about." It was clear that the woman didn't believe her for a second - but Blair was well past caring. Because as of today, she suddenly remembered, she was _free_. She pushed aside the slightly hollow sensation that Chuck's absence had left. The nurse was prattling away about breakfast now. As if Blair was ever going to touch hospital food again. "I won't need any," she cut the woman off, sweetly. "Thanks. I should be getting picked up in about an hour."

"What?" The bitch stared at her. "That's impossible. You're not due for discharge till you've seen Dr. Newman for another consultation."

Blair's smile back was quite sanguine. "Ask at the desk. I'm leaving today." And, as the nurse became even more indignant - "Maybe now this hospital will be able to afford a decent psychiatrist."

She watched the nurse's eyes widen in realisation, and then watched her as she stormed away, muttering under her breath, with a wide smirk.

* * *

Serena grinned as she stood behind her best friend, both of them scrutinizing her reflection in the hospital mirror. The sooner she got away from this fluorescent lighting, Blair decided, the better. But it felt good to be out of a hospital gown and in her own clothes - and to know that she was actually going somewhere in them. Black floral dress, tights, pumps; a green cape and even her pearls. She felt a little more like Blair Waldorf again.

She felt...in control. She felt good.

"Ok," Serena informed her. "Carter says he'll get out of the lawyer's meeting as soon as he can - he should be there by the time we get back to your penthouse."

Blair nodded. She could not _wait_ to be sleeping in a properly sized bed again. Her eyes strayed briefly to the narrow mattress - to the imprint she was sure Chuck's body had left next to hers.

And she faltered. She felt in control. But there was something else - something in her stomach. Fluttering. _Fluttering_. She was free. Free to walk out there and do whatever she wanted; free to find him and tell him. Her hands strayed to her hair as she suddenly realised she knew what she wanted to do first. What she _needed _to do.

"Serena." She breathed out. No more postponing. No more excuses. She knew what she wanted - and nothing, _nothing, _was going to get in her way. "I want to stop of at Chuck's place first."

Serena's face brightened in surprised delight. "You mean-"

"I'm doing it. Now." She straightened her skirt. "I'm going to tell him how I feel."

* * *

The sun was dazzlingly bright as Blair and Serena exited the hospital. And Blair let the fresh air fill her lungs, greedily inhaling the cool spring breeze, the roar of traffic, the hard conctrete of the sidewalk. God, it felt so good to finally be out. She never wanted to be hospitalized again, she decided. Ever. She glanced from the familiar hulk of towering skyscrapers to the waiting limo -

And the figure.

The figure standing by the limo, dressed in a suit and holding a bunch of peonies.

Her heart caught in her throat.

She wasn't even aware of Serena grinning at her side anymore - she'd already left the blonde behind, was already closing the distance between them as she stared. Drank him in. The sunlight gleaming off his dark hair and his quiet smirk. And then she was in his arms, peonies crushed between them and her hands twined around his neck as she gazed up at his face, grabbed him tight.

"What are you doing here?"

His own hands had fastened around her waist. "Blair." He breathed out her name as their foreheads touched, eyes swallowing her. "I-"

"I love you, Chuck." It tumbled out as she held onto him. Her gaze shone, her breath trapped. "I love you."

Her smile lit up her whole face - she'd finally said it, and why hadn't she realised before that they were the easiest words in the world? - and he laughed, quietly. Their noses brushed. "I love you too," he murmured against her skin. The words trembled between them. He loved her. He loved her, he loved her.

And then, finally, they were kissing.

* * *

**Hello! Erm...remember me? I am so, so, so sorry that I've been away from fanfic and haven't updated ANY of my stories for so ridiculously long. I'm afraid real life got in the way :( I feel awful for making anyone reading this wait for literally months - but I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the lovely PMs, reviews and alerts I got in the meantime; I had a wonderful surprise when I finally logged in last week. So, this is finally - FINALLY - the penultimate chapter of this fic; an epilogue will follow! (Hopefully in a much, much shorter space of time!) So if there are any readers still out there, please accept my very humble apologies...and thank you hugely for your patience. I am also just about to put up another chapter of 'Old Yellow Bricks'. 'In This City', however, may take a little longer as I need to get back into writing it :s but I promise, none of these stories will be abandonned. Sorry, sorry and thank you again!**


	21. Epilogue

_'Home; this will always be my home'._

* * *

"So, Miss Waldorf." The interviewer crossed his legs, regarding the young woman before him. She was as perfectly poised in the flesh as she was in all her photos - dark, glossy locks, tapered black pants, cream Valentino blouse and gold blazer, deep red heels. In fact she was downright intimidating. "Now that you've graduated Columbia, what are your plans for the summer?"

She arched one perfectly shaped brow. "I'm spending the summer in the Hamptons."

"With anyone in particular?"

She flashed her teeth at him. "With friends."

What the journalist was itching to ask, of course, was if _friends _included Chuck Bass. But she'd been very clear beforehand - no questions about her two year relationship with the young billionaire. "Well," he restrained himself, "It sounds like you deserve the break. And once you get back, you'll be taking over Waldorf Designs officially?"

"Yes."

"What are your plans for the company?"

"To carry on my mother's work," she responded smoothly. "To ensure that only the highest standards of fashion are maintained throughout."

If she was nervous about taking charge of such a prestigious brand at just twenty-one, the journalist refelected, she definitely didn't look it. "Do you think your mother would be proud, if she could see you now?"

There was a moment's pause while she pursed her lips, eyes dark and serious. And then, finally, "I hope so."

* * *

It was late afternoon, and the Bleaker coffee shop was half empty because NYU had already broken up for summer vaccation. And as he picked his way through the groups of coffee-drinking, scarf-wearing (it was summer, for Christ's sake), scruffy-haired hipsters, thick black glasses and all, Carter Baizen was decidedly out of place. But so was the red-head currently draped in one of the booths. She was taller than most of the people in the room even sitting down, and her bottle of mineral water was most decidedly not an esspresso. Espresso would have lent her far too much energy.

Carter dropped into the seat next to her; she glanced up with that idle smile, suprised to see him. "Carter. What are you doing here?"

"I saw you had a lunch date with Humphrey," he shrugged. "Thought I'd come and rescue you."

"Mm. Oh, it wasn't a date." She waved a hand. "Dan was showing me his book." She brightened a little as she remembered, holding it up. Carter made out the title - 'Inside' - and repressed a snort. "It's about me, you know." She sounded quite pleased. "Although, I've been trying to read it, and...well, it's actually a little dull. And," she shuddered, "He changed my name to _Trish. _Can you imagine?"

"He is from Brooklyn." Carter spared the book another glance. Who the hell had Humphrey even got to publish the trash? "So what does he say about you?"

"He says I'm beautiful, of course...and something about a modern-day Marie Antionette." She released a sigh. "What does that mean, anyway?"

"That Humphreys a pretentious moron," Carter responded shortly. Tish raised her eyebrows at him. "Why," Carter enquired, "Are you even still wasting your time with him?"

"I like him," Tish mused. "He has no social skills, of course...and despite all my best efforts, he still has yet to get laid." She paused a moment, genuinely saddened by this. "But you know, it's quite fun pretending to be clever when he goes on about his little books. Sometimes it's rather amusing to not be stupid."

Carter rolled his eyes. "You're not stupid."

"Oh, I am," she sighed. "They're throwing me out of Cambridge. I'm getting 'sent down', apparently. Daddy says there's only so many times you can repeat the year...and I've used them all up." She flicked her hair over her shoulder, tossing the book down. "It's such an inconvenience," she complained. "Though I suppose now I'll just have to marry Maxxie."

"And why are you still wasting your time on _him_?" Carter murmured as his fingers indolently traced hers on the table.

Her green eyes widened in faint surprise. "Darling, I belong with Maxxie. Our parents have been planning this for years. I couldn't possibly ruin all those business deals - you know that."

"No one _belongs _with anyone," Carter scoffed back.

"Hmm," Tish reflected, cocking her head. "Your sister belongs with Chuck."

Carter just scowled. (But he didn't contradict her.) "I think you and I both know you can do better than Maxxie," he drawled instead. He moved his face a little closer, regarding her. "It's not like you'd settle for Cava just because your parents wanted you to."

The thought appalled her. "Well, of course not." He raised a pointed brow; she looked at him for a moment, and then made a noise of impatience. "Darling, I don't understand. You know how this works. You can't seriously be suggesting-"

He slanted his lips over hers to cut her off. She kissed him back, that large familiar idle mouth, her kisses hungry and langurous as ever. Then she moaned, reluctantly parting their mouths. "You know we're entirely unsuitable, darling." He kissed her again. "And daddy will _kill_ me if I bring home a yank."

He kissed her again to shut her up.

* * *

Chuck was running through the last details of a business deal with his father. He'd invested his own shares for his newest project - he wanted to buy a new hotel. His own one. He'd been in negotiations with the current owner of said hotel all morning, and it looked like he was one step closer to procuring the Empire for Bass Industries. If it all went to plan, then he could start the real work in September. For now, though, Bart had given him a month's vaccation. And once this final meeting was over, he intended to put it to very good use.

"Well," Bart glanced up from the sheaf of papers. "This looks like it's all in order." He nodded at his son, brisk. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Chuck said in surprise. He'd been so sure his father would find something wrong with the proposal - he'd come to the office more than ready to defend himself. In fact, he hadn't had a real disagreement with Bart in quite some time. It was almost as though the old man was starting to trust him.

Bart paused for a moment. "I meant to say. Your mother's coming home tonight."

And there it was, the edge of tension that crept back into both of them. Chuck shrugged it off. "I'm leaving this afternoon."

"I'll pass the message on."

Silence followed for a few seconds. "How long is she staying in New York?" Chuck asked at last.

"Just a few weeks." Evelyn was living almost full-time in Rome now; she and Bart were technically still married, but the rumours of their separation had long spread across the Upper East Side. They weren't really rumours any more. "I'm sure she'd appreciate seeing you once."

Chuck just snorted. "I'll try." He didn't really bother to sound like he meant it. He was already heading for the door.

"Chuck."

Chuck turned to see a slightly odd look on his father's face - he stopped, obediently. "What is it?"

Bart exhaled. "You asked me once how I managed to convince your mother not to go to the board with that...secret. Just after she left for the Dominican Republic."

Chuck remembered. His father had never answered him, not really. "You just said you'd handled it."

"Yes," his father sighed.

Chuck gave him a quizzical look. "I assumed you had something on her?"

Bart's face twisted for a moment. "Your mother is far too careful to ever give me any information to hold against her."

"Then what?" Chuck frowned. "Did you bribe her?" He didn't really understand where the man was going with any of this.

"I didn't have to," Bart told him brusquely. "I just pointed out the possible consequences of her actions." Chuck was still looking at him in confusion. Bart sighed again, weary. "I told her she risked losing you. Forever."

Chuck waited for him to go on. He didn't. Chuck just stared at him. "What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying." Bart rose to his feet. "I'll see you in a few weeks - I hope that you have a good break."

Chuck was left alone in the room, head reeling. He wasn't entirely sure he could process what he'd just been told. Evelyn had agreed not to destroy Bart purely because...she might lose _him? _Bart had to be mistaken. He had to. Was it possible that his mother did care for him? At all? Some distant part of his brain registered that he needed to talk to Blair about this. Blair would help him make sense of it.

But he had time, he knew. He had Blair. And really, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Blair had changed from her interview clothes and into a much more fitting strappy summer dress. Her bags were packed and waiting in the foyer, and her toe tapped the sidewalk impatiently as she scanned the street. He'd said he would be here -

And then the purr of an engine filled her ears as a sleek limo pulled up next to her.

She folded her arms as the tinted window was rolled down. "You're late."

An aggravating tilt of those dark eyes over his sunglasses. "Maybe I had to stop to pick up a little something along the way."

"Like what?" she demanded - but her heart was already thumping eagerly, because she loved little somethings. Especually when they came from him.

He smirked at her. "Why don't you get in and see?"

"It had better be good," she warned as she opened the car door.

A grip caught hers, and in one movement he'd tugged her into the leather interior and onto his lap, hands finding her waist. "Oh, it is." He was kissing her before she could protest, lips seeking her neck and that smirk buried in her skin.

"You liar!" she tried and failed to protest, breath catching in her throat and hands twining in his hair of their own accord. "You didn't get me a present at all!"

In answer, he smugly raised a bottle of her favourite Dom. "I told you it was a little something." His hands slid up under her summer dress, mouth finding hers once more. "So I wasn't talking about myself..."

She moaned, faintly, as his tongue traced her collar bone. "Bass-"

"And there may be a box of macaroons somewhere for the journey," he murmured against her. "Just in case we need...replenishing."

Blair gave up pretending to protest as his mouth travelled lower down and his fingers reached a certain spot above her underwear. She decided to devote her enegry to the far more useful task of undoing his shirt buttons instead. "Well, it has been five hours."

In the front of the car, Arthur double checked that the dividing screen was firmly closed. It looked like it was going to be a long drive to the Hamptons.

* * *

**A/N - So, this fic is finally finished! Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with it for so long - I hope the ending didn't disappoint. Sorry the epilogue's a little shorter! Thank you also for all your lovely reviews - they've all been so wonderful to read :) **


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